Ghosts of Thornfield Hall
by Superagaentv
Summary: Over 200 years have passed since the days at Thornfield, a great hollow shell of what it used to be. Two souls, bound through time and space, meet once again in this modern retelling.
1. Chapter 1

_"__Yet it would be your duty to bear it, if you could not avoid it: it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear." __― __Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre_

Jane sat, her head against the top left of the seat, eyes half shut from her long journey. She had flown over, although it was a short flight, the drive from the airport had turned from one to seven, or more, she lost count. The drive did not seem to mind that his young guest was half asleep in the back seat. Her petite form seemed a sliver of nothing ness, a thin girl, with willowy features underneath a mop of hair secured tightly in a bun upon her head. What little there was to her, this school teacher from far away.

The driver saw the hall, Thornfield Hall, a great manor since the times of Lords and Ladies. Far in the past, an ancestor had been involved in a great fire within the place, but a predecessor had returned and fixed the place to its former glory. Hitting the turn indicator on, the car turned and the charge in the back woke, opening her eyes with no restless movements. "We are here miss."

Jane saw the approaching site, a great tall building surrounded in darkness, no sun lay upon its windows. It was a great mansion, tall and wide, with more rooms than she could count. There was nothing near it, vast woodland and grassy plains surrounding the great estate. In her eyes, she had never seen such a place. She had lived within foster homes all her life, since her aunt had declined all relation. A collage of homes, each one relatively equal to one another, none could encompass the circle of abuse within her aunt's house. She, herself, Jane Eyre, had been luck. Miss Temple, a young social worker, had gotten her out when she noticed something wrong at school. She had fostered a soft and caring love in the young child, becoming her mentor and esteemed older sister, of sorts.

She had always been a plain girl, she was tall, five foot seven, but her slim features presented her constant strife. She had small, and not overly feminine features lower than her neck. She had once been told she had a sweet face, with features not totally wanting, allowing for improvements. Blue eyes with sandy blond hair, scattering of faint freckles that never grew because, dear reader, she hated the son.

" is inside." The driver huffed, and Jane opened her door, clutching her overnight bag lightly. The man opened the trunk, and she walked towards the entry way, a remnant of an ancient world. Stepping inside, she looked around, tucking a hair around her ear. It must have been the old kitchen, a strange and wonderful place where technology sat among old things that seemed to rich and full of life. Running a finger along the edge of the counter, she lost her thoughts in her imagination. _Jane._

"How do you do, my dear?" Mrs. Fairfax spoke, coming down the stairwell to her left, and Jane swirled to greet her, being embraced by a traditional smile and handshake. "I am afraid you have had a tedious ride; John drives so slowly: you must be cold, come to the fire." A woman appeared, taking her bag and Jane slipped off her shoes and was brought into a massive room. She was grateful for the warmth, the chill of the night had seemed into her skin without releasing it. The two sat in silence, drinking tea and Jane looked about the room. It was tall, taller than any one person could ever hope to clean, or reach. Bookcases stood almost everywhere, and she guessed it was the study. Old rugs and furniture sat, not a shred of dust lay upon them.

"Am I meeting Ms. Fairfax tonight?" Jane asked, setting her cup down as she asked the question. The woman across from her startled.

"Who?" She responded, narrowing her eyes at the girl in front of her. Somehow, it all felt like it had been repeated some time before, these two souls conversing as if time had never separated them.

"Ms. Fairfax, my pupil." Jane said, hiding any confusion from her voice as she carefully repeated the question. The other woman smiled, holding up a hand in understanding.

"Oh, you mean Ms. Varens, Mr. Rochester's ward. She's to be your pupil." Mrs. Fairfax smiled, standing, grabbing a lantern while startled Jane briefly. The woman explained that they liked to keep it rustic, since they often had tours of people wanting to stay in the old building. As they walked, Jane became aware a great vast place, full of stair cases and old paintings, even some at the far back of the building were singed. She was very aware that her room seemed to be away from the rest of the house.

"Who's Mr. Rochester?" Jane asked, finally breaking the silence. The curiosity was nagging like a dog scratched at a door. Was he middle aged, tall and aloof, standing in a lone hallway watching her like an old recluse? Was he a old man, who lacked the power to care for a young ward? _Jane. _

"Why, they owner of Thornfield Hall. Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester." Mrs. Fairfax responded, the elderly woman seemed to flicker in the darkness. She was as tall as Jane was, but stout, smartly dressed. She wondered what Mrs. Fairfax would look like in a past bygone age. _Jane._ She looked behind her, fearing madness had set in, a remnant of the house seeping into her soul already."

"I thought Thornfield Hall belonged to you." Jane responded, slightly confused at the whole arrangement, not to say the voice she kept hearing as they walked. Mrs. Fairfax opened the room, placing her bag inside, her other luggage already there. Her room was spacious, far larger than what she expected. A large canopy bed sat in the middle of the room, a fireplace opposite with a chase and dresser on relative sides.

"Oh bless you, child. What an idea? Me? I'm only the housekeeper"


	2. Chapter 2

_"If all the world hated you and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends."  
>― <em>_Charlotte Brontë__, __Jane Eyre_

She spent her night tossing and turning, not from any lack of comfort in some small way, but for the airplane had gotten her luggage mixed up, so she had only what she brought in her carryon. Mrs. Fairfax had given her a long shirt to wear, which Jane presumed had to belong to the owner of the place, since neither Mrs. Fairfax nor John could find into such a slender cut. Her restless sleep was made worse, dreams of a man calling out her name whilst far out in the English countryside drove her practically crazy. She woke at 4 am, according to her phone, which had no service out here so it served as an alarm and clock, as well as a flashlight.

Sighing, her blond hair tumbling down her shoulders as she sat up, rubbing her eyes as she tried to see in the dark. For a moment she thought she saw a figure standing at the end of her bed, causing her to gasp and rub her eyes once more, blinking away the terror of the dark as she looked again; using her phone as a light. Nothing. Pursing her lips, she let out the breath being held unknowingly. The goosebumps appearing and leaving as sudden as a ghost. Jane swallowed, shaking her head, swinging her legs over so her feet touched the floor. Rising, she grasped her carry on taking a tattered book out of it. It was a sketchbook, her grandfathers, the only thing she really had of her biological family. Her parents had been killed by sickness, cancer, when she was very young. A baby really, so she could not remember much of them. However, her uncle, the powerful and kind Mr. Reed, had taken her in. His wife and children did not dare to counteract him in life, so when he passed tragically from heart failure when she was seven, her life began to unravel.

The fireplace was ancient, a relic in all accounts, and Jane did not know whether or not it should be started. But then again Mrs. Fairfax had said they rented out this place to visitors who wanted the authentic experience. "I hope they don't mean to have me dress up." She stated flatly as she struck a match, which were contained within a small box upon the mantle. It took her a minute, guessing what each instrument next to the fire was used for, but the fire soon warmed her and the room. Light from the fire seemed to roar on the ceiling, and Jane pulled her pencil from her bag, opening the sketchbook to a fresh page as she began to draw.

Painting and drawing were the keenest pleasures she had ever known. Miss Temple had been a godsend, sending her nice presents from time to time, but the school was her refuge. The foster homes offered little, but the school taught her everything. She learned rapidly, her skills with language and art soon became her most prised possessions. However, drawing and painting had soon surpassed her love of language, since other people had never offered much in the way of comfort. Helen had, poor little Helen Burns. In the all-girls school she had been sent to, the only constant thing about foster life really, was the private all girls school her aunt still paid for. Really, it had been Uncle Reed, whose will had left a sum for Jane, in regards to her education. Lowood school was ancient, some sort of religious reform school at some point, which did nothing to dishearten the girls who went there. Her aunt had chosen that school, and all money left towards Jane's education was placed there, which trapped her into the perpetual cycle of attending.

Being a good student make it easy for Jane to skip grades, now that her intelligence was allowed to grow and her ideas expand. She was a great reader, if nothing else, and kept to herself, was Helen. A few years older, Helen suffered from HIV. Being born with something so strange made it hard for Helen to find friend among her peers, let alone her teachers. Many of the teachers punished her for prejudice alone, something Jane found intolerable. Helen had become her guardian and friend, until a bought of mutated flu made its way to the school, ravaging the students who had to stay there year round. Jane's foster parents did not mind letting her stay there, they had no invested interest in the girl and nor the other way around. But when the epidemic hit, she was forced to go home, learning later her friend had died from exposure. Helen had written to her, a note in their secret place at school. "_I am very happy, Jane; and when you hear that I am dead you must be sure and not grieve: there is nothing to grieve about. We all must die one day, and the illness which is removing me is not painful; it is gentle and gradual: my mind is at rest. I leave no one to regret me much: I have only a father; and he is lately married, and will not miss me. By dying young I shall escape great sufferings. I had not qualities or talents to make my way very well in the world: I should have been continually at fault."_

As Jane drew, she recalled the rest of her years at Lowood, where she had graduated early at the tender age of sixteen. Lowood also allowed her to pursue a degree, something she the school did as a sort of working scholarship, she set out for three years doing just that, which all in all, had set her up nicely for this job as a private governess. Jane felt like she had stepped back in time, not just with the title name alone. The place creaked and moaned like it had been alive too long and see to many hard winters, the fire cracked and spat like it was chasing her away, a thought that was not entirely unpleasant after the first night here.

As the sun began to peak over the horizon, Jane raised her head, the natural night drifting in from the other side of the room. Standing, she placed her sketch on the chaise on which she sat, and walked to the window, looking out. It was so vast, the trees seemed to form a faraway place full of woodland sprites and fairies, things from tales of old. She could walk here, for days probably, and never return, getting taken in by the forest and whatever else lay within. A type of silence seemed to grow like the fog that rose from the trees, surrounding the woods and the forest in such a singular fashion. Jane turned away, rubbing her arms and dressing in what she wore yesterday.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Most true is it that 'beauty is in the eye of the gazer.' My master's colorless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth,-all energy, decision, will,-were not beautiful, according to rule; but they were more than beautiful to me: they were full of an interest, an influence that quite mastered me,-that took my feelings from my own power and fettered them in his. I had not intended to love him: the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, green and strong! He made me love him without looking at me." Chapter 17, pg. 153_

She walked down the steps, each making footfall echoing throughout. There was an emptiness within each step, hollow, that Jane did not like. Her hair had been tied up once more, a tight bun little low on her neck, goosebumps appearing with a sudden chill. _Jane. _Making her way slowly, Jane looked at the paintings, some seemed to be very old, maybe predating the house or it's obvious refurbishment, and some seemed to be newer, as if added after the house had been rebuilt, but of the same era.

"Ah Jane," Mrs. Fairfax said, coming into view with a smile, making the girl jump in surprise. Jane offered a smile, the shadows of the dark hallways seem to create monsters on its walls, looming ghosts of the past._ Jane_. "You are an early riser."

"Yes," Jane replied, moving toward the light the woman held in her hand, as daybreak formed over the building, easing the looming monstrosities and nervous overhang in her mind. "I have always been so."

"My, you are young." Mrs. Fairfax mused, putting the light directly on her face, ascertaining the girl. _Pale, and perhaps a little thin_, the older woman thought, _but given time, she will develop well._

"But not lacking in talent, I am qualified." Jane replied, giving the woman a soft smile. "You will not be disappointed."

"Oh, I am sure we are lucky to have you." Mrs. Fairfax replied, "Just surprised me. You don't find girls like you nowadays, they are so flighty, off to South America to 'find themselves'." Jane smiled as they walked down, listening to the sounds of the old house. "Do you think you shall like the house?" Mrs. Fairfax asked as they made their way into the kitchen, were breakfast was waiting. A meal that was traditional; full English breakfast.

"All these relics give Thornfield Hall the aspect of a home of the past: a shrine to memory. I like the hush, the gloom, the quaintness of these retreats in the day. The rooms are shut in, some of them, with doors of oak; shaded, others, with wrought old-English hangings crusted with thick work, portraying effigies of strange flowers, and stranger birds, and strangest human beings,-all which have looked strange, indeed, by the pallid gleam of moonlight."

Mrs. Fairfax raised an eyebrow, chewing on a piece of toast as Jane spoke, hearing words like a foreign language. "What a strange creature you are." She said finally, Jane giving her a soft smile.

"Perhaps I spent too much time in solace." The girl offered, "I studied many old books and have, in turn, began to think more in old speech than the modern." She ate slowly, her head not focused within the room, but the wandering walls and history.

"What is the history of this place?" Jane asked, taking a bite of the food.

"Oh, this old place has been owned by the family for generations, it has been in the family for over six generations." The woman responded, sipping her coffee. "Back in the 1800's, it is said that a Mr. Rochester suffered a great loss due to his love for a young governess, he went blind and lost an arm in a fire."

"To save the girl?" Jane asked, her curiosity peaked.

"Oh heavens, no. That was the wonder of it, he was already married to a mad woman. It is rumoured that she set the fire, and then leapt off the roof to her death." Mrs. Fairfax said gravely, leaning in. "It is even said that her ghost roams Thornfield Hall, waiting to finally get her revenge."

Jane swallowed a lump caught within her throat with a gulp of coffee, a chill suddenly striking her. "That's terrifying." The woman laughed, a smile spreading on her face.

"That's just what we tell the tourists dear." Jane offered her a weak smile, foolish enough to become entranced by the ghost story and yet saddened by the lack of potential excitement. "Speaking of which, a group of coming in on Tuesday, from America. Staying for a week or so. Which means I have to drive into the village and hire some of the local girls to come be servants during their visit."

"Why do you not employ servants year round?" Jane asked, thinking about the enormous size of the house and the cost of that upkeep.

"Oh, we like to give the village girls some fun. We all have costumes you know, a themed adventure back into England's 19th century." Mrs. Fairfax replied, shrugging. Jane felt a wave of dread with that statement, cutting into a sausage. "Mr. Rochester said we were to pick up a few dresses for you as well."

"Is that normally what a private teacher does here?" She asked, the thought of wearing a corset and a poufy dress not fundamentally appealing, however appealing old novels were.

"I don't know, he has never hired one before." Mrs. Fairfax smiled, finishing her coffee with a grin. "I was only told to find dresses suitable for a governess. There are many dresses here that weren't burnt in the fire, so they really are relics, as you put them."

"You mean I will be wearing a dress from that area, not just a replicate." Jane grimaced, "Lovely."

"It's not so bad really, we had a lady from the village re-sow many of the items so they are like new." The woman responded, clearing the plates. "The first few times is a bit daunting, but it becomes fairly normal." Jane made a small face as the woman talked, the thought was not overly appealing.

"What is he like- this Mr. Rochester?" She asked, curious as to what type of person could come up with this eccentric formula for work.

"He's a very good master, for lack of a better word. He keeps everything running very smoothly. Always takes care of the needs of the building and the land. But he is away quite a lot, he is an enterprising young man."

"Young man?" Jane questioned, "I thought Mr. Rochester was an older man?"

"Oh heavens no," Mrs. Fairfax said, looking back at the girl from the sink. "He's quite young, in his thirties I believe." Jane nodded slowly, her idea of the man becoming more and more illusionary. As her imagination played with this new found image, Mrs. Fairfax turned around, hand on her hip. "Now, let's go meet your pupil. I should warn you though, she's French."


	4. Chapter 4

_"Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt? May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agonized as in that hour left my lips; for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love"__ Jane Eyre_

Jane sat on the chair in her room, exhausted. Her pupil was young, very vivacious creature. The exact nature of this creature was still unknown to Jane. Mrs. Fairfax had explained her to be Mr. Rochester's ward, a girl aged seven or eight, slim featured and pale, with long curling hair down her back. Her name was Adela, her mother had passed away and she had come to live here. Upon finding that a common tongue was shared, the little girl had become so animated, exclaiming, "You speak my language as well as Mr. Rochester does: I can talk to you as I can to him, and so can Sophie. She will be glad: no one here understands her." In her native tongue, and Jane had found it easy to converse with such an easy going creature. In pursuing this new friendship, Adela, or Adele as said in the spoken tongue, had shown Jane some of what her mother had taught her before she passed. The little girl had sat upon her knee then, shaken her head and sung a piece from an opera. It spoke of a lady so forsaken that she basks herself in jewels and riches to ensure the meeting of her lover once more. Jane had wondered at such a song being taught to a child, and concluded that it was not something a child should learn.

What followed had been poetry, and a dance, with which Jane smiled and clapped for her, it was done very well for the age of the child and level of skill possessed. It struck Jane that Adele had not been used to serious study, and it would only deter her mind to be caged for long periods. It was no wondered a private teacher had been hired in such a case. After noon, Jane decided to confine herself to sketching, heading upstairs when Mrs. Fairfax had called to her. Walking in her direction, Jane was struck with the room.

It had not been affected by the fire, that much was certain, or else it was such an exact replication. It was a large and stately apartment, with purple chairs ads curtains, a Turkey carpet, walnut-panelled walls, one vast window rich in slanted glass and a lofty ceiling, nobly mounted. Jane could not fully absorb the beauty and splendor of the room, truly something dazzling that must have been as imposing then as now. "This is the dining room." Mrs. Fairfax had said as she polished the table, "We have to open the windows to prevent dampness. Take that drawing room, it feels like a vault." Becoming curious, Jane had poked her head in and marvelled once more.

"It is a wonder that you can keep them so clean." Jane had responded, 'It is as if people walk these rooms everyday."

"You never can tell when Mr. Rochester will show up out of the blue, like a ghost, and then be gone once more, not returning for months."

"It is a wonder you have gotten to know him so well then." Jane had stated, giving the woman a smile.

"He is a well-liked man, the whole family has always been well liked. He tends to be a bit, well, peculiar, but then most well-travelled men are. I say he is as clever as any man, but we do not talk much when he is at home."

"Why do you say peculiar?" Jane had replied, her image of this man beginning to crumble away into some obscure form.

"He just is I suppose. I can never tell if he is joking or serious, pleased or offended. It makes him hard to understand." Mrs. Fairfax had mused, pausing in her duty to think. "Overall it doesn't matter, I am not here to understand him. He is a good employer, that is all." Jane had smiled at her conclusion, a man that was not only puzzling but off limits in terms of questioning.

All in all, she had learned there was a large servant quarter that led to the roof, which held the best view of the overall property. When they had gone exploring, Jane had lingered below while Mrs. Fairfax accessed a trap door of sorts, and Jane had stood in the dark of this chamber or hall contemplating the silence when a laugh struck her ears so sharply, Jane thought she had imagined it. It did not sound again, even with great attention paid listening to it. When she had asked Mrs. Fairfax about the laugh, she said it must be one of the older servants who was kept on by Mr. Rochester out of respect for her many years of service. This woman had a room all to herself, and she could come and go when she pleased, but preferred to remain in her room, knitting and crafting things. Her name was Grace Poole, a normal sounding enough name. Jane had even met this woman, when knocking on her door, and saw she was in fact, a person of flesh and not some ghostly apparition. Jane had introduced herself and promptly left the area with Mrs. Fairfax, bothered by the very feeling that seemed to linger in the place.

Jane went over the events over and over, weighing her opinions of everyone. Mrs. Fairfax seemed good tempered and kind, with a pleasing way about her. Adele showed great progress, and appeared kind hearted as well. The rest of the workers seemed nice enough, they seemed to avoid her in most cases, and lunch had just appeared on the table, which Jane suspected was to increase the 'ghostly' atmosphere. All in all, Jane looked forward to exploring the grounds, spending her spare time with meditation and finding solace in new hiding places she was bound to discover.

The only startling and constant unnerving quality about this place was the laugh, it seemed to echo in her soul, and Jane did not know if it was a warning or a creation of her active mind. As a child, Jane had been heavily influenced by superstition, but had grown out of such notions with a good education. This notion, as foolish as it seemed, lingered. Jane could not help but feel that worth lay in accepting her instinct, and remaining as far away from Grace Poole as possible.

Putting down her sketchbook, Jane looked to the window, hoping that her luggage would appear before her, she longed for a set of clean clothes that belonged to her, rather than a borrowed shirt and the clothes of a lost generation. She felt like she had aged considerably, but then again she had always felt like an old soul trapped within a realm with which she was misunderstood. She had never really had a playful nature, she longed for knowledge and adventure, but she confined herself to exploring the world through books, traversing the great areas of the planet through ethnographies and other accounts. Here at least she would not suffer being told she was an outcast, and maybe the feeling of such solemnity would lessen in this place. Feeling hopeful, Jane looked back to her drawing and looked carefully at it. It seemed to be that of a mad woman, standing within shadow and time, watching her with vengeful eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is C.B's work. I use direct lines in order to keep the ombiance. __J_

"Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs."  
>― Charlotte Brontë, <em>Jane Eyre<em>

The work was not hard, Adele was an eager pupil, and the hours were her own. September had been a blurr, and October, November and December passed as one whole time. When she wasn't teaching, Jane walked about the place, finding her fun on the top stories, the roof and the woods. The people who worked with her were nice people. Adele had a nurse, a French girl named Sophie, who was pleasant and Jane found that she could spend some time easily with her. She had met John already, and his wife turned out to be the cook, a sweet lady. Leah was one of the regular 'housemaids' if you could call her that. She was a young girl of just 18, who decided to have some fun working at the historical house while saving for school.

It was a cold day in January, and Jane found herself restless. It was Saturday, and Adele had begged for a day off from work, and it had been granted. Jane spent most of the day trying to make an old phone work, since she had to make a trip into the small village two miles away to contact the airline. They had not yet found her luggage, and four months of wearing much of the same thing, aside from those awful dresses Mrs. Fairfax delighted in giving her, she wanted her things again.

Sighing in frustration, Mrs. Fairfax chuckled, handing her a letter. "Come on now, those old phone haven't worked in ages. Why don't you take a walk to the village and post this letter?" Jane smiled at her, retrieving a coat hung nearby. Why this place had never installed a mail bow at the end of the lane, she would never know. "Oh come now, it's not that far. A good walk there will reawaken your spirit."

"And the walk back?" Jane asked, pulling it over her shoulders. "What shall that do for me? Am I to be kidnapped by robbers?" Mrs. Fairfax shook her head, a smile on it non the less.

"Just go child, the quicker your there, the earlier you get back." Mrs. Fairfax said as Jane zipped up the coat, pulling on a black hat and mits. "We are having quiche tonight, your favorite." Jane grasped the letter, smiling at the woman and shaking it at her.

"You really should John to do this, what will you do if I am not here? Adele would surely wander off and Sophhie would be lost within five minutes." Jane said, and Mrs. Fairfax chuckled as she walked out the door. The walk was a pleasant one, the woods seem to expand well beyond her destination, even though she knew they did not. The ground was hard, and the road was lonely, the only way to break the chill was to walk quickly, until it was no longer necessary. Jane became lost in her thoughts, an old church bell ringing as if often did to signal the time, and Jane knew it marked the end of the evening. It was true enough, the sun began to set.

It was then Jane looked around, she had walked into a lane of sorts and she chuckled at herself for being foolish. As she turned around, she got her bearings. This place was called Hay lane, since it led to the village of Hay. Jane watched the sun set behind the house, a strange quality about the air around it. She smiled, since this place was much on her mind. But Hay lane let both to Hay and Millcotte, which was next to the village. Turning back to her path on the hill, she found there to be a pale moon rising, and she welcomed its light as she walked. There were fields all around her, the land was sheltered by a row of trees that seemed to go on till the ends of the earth.

The mind does strange things in the dark, and as she walked she was sure voices were talking to her on the wind, murmuring strange things. The thicker the tree seemed to be the further she went, and she saw things in the night, strange beings and sights long forgotten within childhood memories. The crunch of her feet upon the ground made her shiver, the sound of the leaves moving in the wind. As she rounded a corner, she heard a sound, a click or a clock of some kind. Movement in the distance and an old tale of the Gytrash flooded into her mind. The nearer it got, the more Jane's ears heard the whispers and the noises, a great light shone and she turned her head to the side, for the road was very narrow, looking into the hedgerow. A large creature appeared, bounding out of the bushes like a lion and she jumped backwards falling to the ground as the creature leapt past her, the light shone and Jane scrambled to get up as the light blazed in her face.

Moving out the way, she panted, clutching the letter to her chest before she heard a screech of tires and a man cursing. Looking over in the dark, she could see that the motorcycle lay on the road, it's master in the bushes nearby, muttering. His bike had slipped on the ice, the same patch she had avoided by coming down the other side. Jane was very relieved that this was a human being, rather than a creature of darkness. The dog returned and Jane froze as she approached, the dog lingered at the man, its lion form now gone. This dog knew its own master, and he whined as the man grumbled on the ground in the most distasteful way. Jane had heard swearing before, a girl at school had done so many times, but this was the first time she had heard a man do so, and in such a colourful way.

"Are you injured, sir?" Jane asked, stepping slightly near her, but he did not stop his swearing, nor did he respond to her questions. "Can I do anything?"

"Stand the bike up." The man growled, and Jane stepped near, the dog giving her a watchful eye as she strained to lift the thing up. The man finally stood, but winced lowing himself once more and swore again, the dog barking loudly as his master seemed to fumble in the dark. "Down Pilot!" The man barked, and the dog was silent.

"If you are hurt I can call for an ambulance." She offered, this particular site had some forms of electricity, since it led to the village. "Or there is a house nearby, they have a car, I can run there."

"I am fine," The man said, "Nothing is broken, just sprained." He growled, and Jane clenched her teeth in the dark. With the moonlight, Jane could see him, plain as day. He wore a helmet, and all over covered by black material she assumed to be leather. Jane noted she did not feel afraid of him, perhaps slightly guarded or shy, but if he had been young and attractive, she would have felt differently. She could not see his face, but she assumed him to be in his thirties, and his body was not that of a younger man. The riding outfit gave way to every inch he had, all was trim and neat, a tall man she gathered, giving the size of his shoes and the height he seemed when he stood in the moonlight.

"I can't just leave you here, alone in the dark." Jane said, her voice strong. "I will not go until you have safety ridden away, and I have heard no more crashing sounds."

His covered head looked in her direction and the gruff voice answered. "Don't you think it is you who are unwise, walking at this hour in such a state of light? You must live nearby, where to you hale?"

"Just below. And I am not afraid, there is more than enough moonlight to see properly." Jane replied, slightly offended at his remark. "It is just past 6, there is no harm."

"Below? You mean to say you come from Thornfield Hall?" He pointed and she could see the faint outline of the place in the moonlight, and it looked very far away. Jane looked at him and nodded. "Whose house is it?"

"Mr. Rochester's."

"Do you know this Mr. Rochester?"

"No I have never seen him."

"He is not at home?"

"No."

"Can you not tell me where he is?"

"No." She replied, getting annoyed though her voice remained the same.

"You can't be a servant." He mused.

"I am a private teacher."

"Ah, a governess now less." He nodded, "I had forgotten about the governess." He seemed to mused for a moment. "Since I will not ask you to go for help this late, will you help me with something?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you see the kick stand on the bike?"

"Yes, sir."

"Kick it down and come over here." Jane found the kickstand and she put it out, waiting until the bike did not fall over. She hesitated to come over, he looked like an alien within the helmet on. "I am sorry to have to ask, but I ask out of need, not want." Jane walked over, it was maybe 15 steps to the bike, and she bent down so he could put his arm around her shoulders. He leaned on her, his right ankle seemed hurt as he limped over to the bike, which they had to walk around to the other side, whereby he managed to get on the thing in one piece. "Now," He said, "Get about your business. I thank you." He kicked the bike stand back, wincing (she assumed) in pain before he kicked the bike into gear.

As he roared away Jane scoffed, the dog chasing after him with vigor, as Jane set back on her trek shaking her head in the wonder of it all. Jane found Hay not long after, and made her way back quickly. As Jane neared Thornfield once more, she did not like the look. It was eerie and silent, no wind moved, and it also meant returning to the promise of stagnation. Jane took great pains to walk slowly to the gates of the estate, lingering on the lawn and then again on the pavement before the doors. All windows were shut and covered, making it seem more gruesome.

Opening the door, Jane found it all too dark and depressing. Here too, silence seemed to manifest over all sound, not a clock ticked away in the distance. She thought she heard the faint sound of Adele, somewhere, as Jane removed the hat, gloves and coat. Jane walked to Mrs. Fairfax room, knocking lightly on the door. There was no answer, and Jane opened the door slowly, gasping as she looked at the creature lying on the rug. A great creature lay on the rug, the dog looked up at her. "Pilot." She said, and the dog rose to its feet. Jane groaned inwardly as the dog came over, wagging its tale.

"Oh there you are." Leah said, "You missed the most fascinating evening."

"Whose dog is this?" Jane asked.

"He came home with the master."

"With whom?"

"The master, owner, sorry. Mr. Rochester. He just arrived."

Jane nodded, looking at the dog as she scratched his ears. "Really, is that why Mrs. Fairfax is not here?"

"Yes, she and Adele are dining right now. John is preparing ice for the master.' Leah said, all too enthusiastic about using old English to speak. "His motorcycle hit some ice and he skidded off, and sprained his ankle in the process. He was lucky he did not break his neck."

"Did he have the accident in Hay Lane?" Jane asked.

"Yes, on the way down the hill."

"Oh, that's too bad." Jane said, "I am going to retire to my room, if anyone wants me.

"Ah Jane!" Mrs. Fairfax said, coming down the hall with a lantern. "You will never guessed who has arrived."


	6. Chapter 6

"That a greater fool than Jane Eyre had never breathed the breath of life; that a more fantastic idiot had never surfeited herself on sweet lies, and swallowed poison as if it were nectar."  
>― Charlotte Brontë, <em>Jane Eyre<em>

Mr. Rochester by all accounts had a bad sprain and refined himself to his room, which didn't bother Jane at all. If he ventured out of bed, it was not for anything other than business, which happened due to him reconnecting a phone line in the study and library. Jane greatly wanted to phone the airline, since she was trapped in a wave of the same clothes. Adele greatly wanted to visit with the man, and Jane grew weary of the girl's insistence. After lessons had ended, Jane had wandered to the library, and heard movement, she sighed and tried to find a new spot.

"Jane." Mrs. Fairfax said, calling out to the girl. "Come here child," Jane did as she bade and walked closer, smelling the meal looking and smiling. "Mr. Rochester wants you and Adele to have tea with him at 6, just before dinner." Mrs. Fairfax looked at her and pursed her lips. "You will want to change your clothes."

"Really?" Jane asked, "This is all I have, well those old dresses, but I am not keen on wearing one the first time I meet my employer."

"Ah well, " Mrs. Fairfax mused, "Just wear one of them for tonight, that nice black one perhaps."

Jane groaned, looking at herself in the mirror. It was a black silk dress, nice enough but it was 19th century and grisly, as if the last person wearing it knew no laughter or cheer. Jane made a face, shaking her head and trying to make herself look less ghostly, less atrocious. Looking at her phone, she saw it was 5:55pm and she took a breath and came downstairs.

She entered the study, it was lit by two candles on a table and then two more on the mantle, besides the large fire that burned. Jane stifled her groan as she rolled her eyes in the dark, Adele was sitting by Pilot on the rug, and Mr. Rochester was lounging on a couch. Jane took the moment as it was, giving her time to take in his form. He was tall, and well-built as she had assessed. However he had a square forehead, which was accentuated by black hair that swept horizontally. He had a nose that one would notice instantly. He did not possess much in way of beauty, but character, Jane thought, was more likely. With a grim mouth, jaw and chin he was nothing very remarkable, aside from his physical being.

"Here is Miss Eyre," Mrs. Fairfax said, and Jane turned her head and looked at her, turning pale.

"Yes, let her be seated." He said, not looking up. He sounded impatient but formal, an striking combination if she had ever heard on. His grim way did not bother her, and she sat without embarrassment. Relative lack of embarrassment as Adele gave her a look of surprise at her dress, and Jane smiled at the girl slightly. Time passed and the man neither spoke nor moved, much like a statue. At last, he asked for tea, which Jane passed to him from her seat when it was ready, as he removed the cup from her hand, Adele pipped up, something in French and Mr. Rochester seem to growl, looking at Adele then Jane. "Who speaks of this? Do you desire presents too, Miss Eyre, is it? Do you like presents?"

Jane noted that he had dark eyes, piercing and harsh, much like his tone. "As much as anyone who has not received many does, they are nice enough as other's say."

"Others? What are your thoughts?"

"That depends on the present, there are many kinds and I can not give an acurrate answer. I think one should consider the whole, before professing an opinion."

"AH, I see you are not so childish as my young friend here. She wishes for presents at all times, and asks for them at every moment. You, however, beat about the bush."

"If you always give a child playthings, how can you expect any different. She knows you, values you and has a long term relationship that has been well established. If I have less confidence in my assertions, it is because I lack the experience and acquaintance. It would be odd to ask for a present from a stranger."

"Do not humble yourself too much, I have examined the child. She has no talents, and it not overly bright, yet in the time with you she has improved greatly."

"Sir, you have now given me my present, and I thank you. A pupil's praise is the greatest present to receive."

"Hah!" He chortled, "Come sit by the fire" he said after a time, Adele had been showing her something in my corner of the dimly lit room, and Jane now followed the instruction, sitting down. "You have been here three months?"

"Almost four."

"Where did you go to school?'

"Lowood."

"Ah yes, Lowood. How long did you attend."

"Eight years."

"Eight! Well you are very tenacious then, if I had lived at boarding school I should have died within six months." He mused, watching her. "No wonder you are so," He gestured with his hand to fond the word and she watched him with no expression. "-other wordly. I wondered how you must have gotten such a face. When I saw you in the Lane last night, I much thought that you had put a curse on my bike, or the road. Which I am not yet sure. What of your parents."

"I don't have any."

"Ah, we are the same then. Do you remember them?"

"No."

"I thought as much. Were you waiting for your people when I saw you?"

Jane furrowed her brow slightly, "For whom sir?"

"For the men in green" it was proper moonlight for the creatures. Did I break a spell or ring of magic that you put the ice there?"

Jane shook her head. "No Green men have been in England for over 300 years ago." She replied with a serious tone. "There would be no traces of them in Hay Lane, and I do not think moonlight in summer or harvest, or winter will shine on them evermore."

Mrs. Fairfax cleared her throat at such talk, strange and fanciful as it was. It was not proper conversation.

"Who are your family then, since you discard your parents?"

"I have one aunt who is alive, but we do not speak."

"No one else then?"

"No one."

"Your home?"

"I have none."

"Siblings?"

"None."

"How did you come to find yourself here?"

"I put out an ad with the schools for a private teacher." Mrs. Fairfax said, "And I am glad she responded. God has granted me a good companion and teacher."

"Don't give her character," He growled, "I can see it for myself. She already spelled my bike."

"What?" Mrs. Fairfax said, stopping the knitting work she was doing.

"It is her fault I have this injury." Mr. Rochester growled, and Mrs, Fairfax looked very bewildered. "Did you ever live in town?"

"Not really. I stayed on at the school while finished my degree. In residence."

"Did you have a life?"

"No, not really."

"No parties, drinking, dances?"

"No."

"What do you do?"

"I read, draw and paint mostly. I sing sometimes but when I am alone."

"You are not a teacher, but a nun. No wonder you are so cold and unnatural, you have not lived!"

"Yes sir."

"Did you like your school director?"

"No."

"I bet you worshipped him."

"I did not. He was odious."

"What nun does not worship their priest, a lover of education that you are. I do not believe you."

"He was cruel and unjust." Jane responded, an edge to her voice.

"What a vauge description."

"He only cared about money, not if we had enough food or good food. If there was heat or not. We had light for as long as it was deemed cost effective. Our beds had not been replaced in over 10 years. Shall I go on?"

"What age were you when you started?"

"Around 8."

"You are not 16."

"I am 19, I did go to college."

"Ah yes, math you see, is useful in the real world. How else could I have tried to guess your age, when your face has no clue as to it. Did you learn much at college?"

"Yes."

"Can you play the piano?"

"I can." Jane said, she found herself annoyed at his questions, they were never ending.

"Will you play for me?"

"Now?" She asked, looking around.

"There is a piano in the library."

"And no light to see the music."

"Enough then. Adele showed me some sketches you have done, but they are too good for a girl of 19."

"What? No,-"

'Aah, I see where your heart is, this touches your pride, go fetch your drawing for me, I need proof of this."

"Can I not draw something for you here, now?"

"Fine, do what you must." He growled, and Jane found a piece of scrap paper and a pencil. After a length she finished, handing it to him. He looked at it roughly, looking closely at every bit. Mrs. Fairfax and Adele came round to see, but he growled at them to back off. "All those pictures were done by your hand?"

"Yes."

"When did you have time?"

"Spare class times, the plane, days off here."

"Where are the copies?"

Jane eyed him carefully, calming her voice. "They are not copies."

"You got all those images out of your head?"

"Yes."

"That head, the one on your very shoulders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Does it have anything else within?"

"I should hope so, since Adele is so much improved."

He looked at the drawing once more, and Jane found herself wondering if sketching him was a bad idea. She had drawn him roughly and fiercely, but maybe she should have chosen the fire or something equally dull. "And the rest of those drawings, were you happy when you did them?"

"I am always happy as I draw, for it is drawing that makes me happy. It is one of the best things I have ever known."

"You cannot have known much of such things." Mr. Rochester responded, "You must exist in a dreamland, where you can bend things to your will. Do these take you long?"

"Sometimes, it depends on the time I have to give. Sometimes it can take up all my free time, and other, not long at all."

"Are you satisfied with them?"

"Some, artists are always tormented by their work, it becomes real and creates its own kind of imperfection. Most come from within my head, and it is hard to live up to those expectations."

"For a girl, they were particular. So much fantasy within them, elves and the 'evening star' look like creatures from a dream. Yet they were so clear and real on the page, like forms from another planet had come and posed for you. What meaning exists there, what depth? Who taught you that wind had spirit, and sky, that they have faces and forms? What aid have you that you can produce such a likeness of me!?" He growled, handing the paper back and snapping. "It is past nine, how much later are you going to let Adele sit up? Go, take her to bed."

Jane stood, telling Adele what must happen and the child kissed the man goodnight, before following her teacher away. Jane felt like talking with Mrs. Fairfax, her description of him was quite ill. He was changeful and abrupt, treating his guests very unfairly. She wondered if it was within his nature, and she imagined it was, or perhaps learned from the people he kept with in the cities.

Reaching her room, she rid herself of the dress and its constraints. Grabbing the t shirt, she crawled into bed, not liking her first meeting with the man, yet she found herself liking him, he was odd and it intrigued her mind. She would learn later that he never spent much time at this place, adding to his mystery and her own inner delight at the adventure.


	7. Chapter 7

"You transfix me quite."  
>― Charlotte Brontë<p>

Several days went by without hide nor hare of the master of the house; business, a neighbor called and spent all day with him, and when his foot allowed it, he rode on horseback around the property or to his neighbor's house to return the friendship. As Jane mused in her room, she found that Adele was shocking not called on, he wanted little to do with the child it seemed. As for her own meetings with him, he had seen her in fleeting moments, stairs, kitchen or the halls, met with little kindness or good humour. Most of the time he did not acknowledge her existence, and she returned the favor after being slighted for the first time. After which his moods did not affect her, and she regarded their relationship to be cordial and unimportant, never surpassing the employer-employee status. When her luggage had arrived, she had seen the delivery truck pull in resulting in her bolting from her room, running down the stairs, practically running over her employer as she darted out to the truck, signed the waiver and hauled her bags upstairs. Never had one person so glad for modern garb.

There was an evening when he had a group of people over for dinner, and she learned that her artwork had been taken from her room and displayed at this get together, a fact she contributed to his oddities. However, after the men had left, she had been told by Mrs. Fairfax to change her clothes and meet him afterwards in the study. Jane had just frozen, mouth open as she thought of what meager thing she had to wear. "Dress formally, you know how it is with him" Mrs. Fairfax said, and the girl turned and headed upstairs as fast as she could.

Choosing a knee length black dress, she slipped into it, zipping it up and securing her hair in the bun before she descended. As she had come to the room, she had heard Adele exclaiming about a present, her giddy tones and happy face brought a soft smile to Jane's face as she stood in the doorway. The little girl was running over to the sofa, a large box in her hands. "Mind you don't bother me with details of this process, silence is needed." The master growled at the child, but his commands went unheard. "Is Miss Eyre here yet?" He growled, half rising from his chair and saw her, and Jane stepped forward from the doorway. "Ah! Come forward, here-" He pulled a chair closer to himself, as she moved toward him. "Sit next to me, for I dislike the prattle of children, for being that I am old and a bachelor, it does not please me to spend all night talking with such a brat." Jane said nothing as she sat, and he sat back down in his place. "No don't move away from me, Miss Eyre, sit where I placed it. I also abhor simple minded old ladies, but alas, she is my relative and blood is thicker than water." Mrs. Fairfax had entered the room as if on command, knitting material in hand. "Ah, good evening Madam, you are here under charitable reasons, for I forbid Adele from talking about her present to me, and I have chosen you for this task." As soon as he said it, or before if truth be told, Adele summoned Mrs. Fairfax over to show her and parade her present around.

"My duties are dispensed, I can refrain now from being a gracious host, see Miss Eyre, they are perfectly matched for the evening. Now-" He growled, and Jane watched him neutral expression. "Come closer to me, you sit too far away. I cannot see you without disturbing my position in my comfortable chair."

Jane did so, her mind was trying to comprehend this odd creature she was sitting by, and at the same time a little miffed at his tone of orders yet somehow knew to do what he wanted right away. As she had studied him, he seemed less gloomy, he had been smiling, something that she thought him incapable of. Most notably of all the facts that night, his eyes held sparkle, and she wondered if it was the wine. She also knew he was in a much better mood than the mornings, usually, and the fire seemed to make his dark eyes seem great, and they were great, dark orbs that seemed to change in the light, like there existed something in the depths that was changeable, but not softness.

"You examine me," He had said, snapping her out of her reverie. "Do you find me handsome?"

"No, sir." Jane knew, reflecting back on it, that she should not have answered so quickly.

"Ah! You are a singular minded creature." He had said back to her, "You sit there, quiet, grave, quaint and simple, your hands on your lap, your eyes now on the carpet which, previous were on my face quite directly, yet if asked a question, or presents a remark that requires response, you give such an answer that is quite the rejoinder, blunt usually. What do you mean by it?"

"I spoke too quickly, I should have said that such an impromptu question about appearance should not be answered to casually. Everyone has different tastes, what one finds handsome the other repulsive. Perhaps I should say that beauty is of little consequence."

"You ought to say nothing like, beauty is indeed very important! So, with the pretense of softening the blow to my ego, or of inducing me into a placid state, you go an stick a knife between my ribs. Say, what fault is there in me? Pray tell, I long to know the answer. I trust I have all my limbs and features like a normal person."

"I respectfully decline, my response was a blunder, that's all. I retract it."

"Ah, I think so, but none the less, be critical me. What fault is there? My forehead, perhaps." He lifted up his hair, and his prominent forehead showed readily. "Now, then, is this the head of a fool?"

"Far from it, a philanthropist perhaps?"

"Again, another knife to the ribs." He growled, "It is because I spoke of children and old ladies poorly. I see it in your eyes. I am no philanthropist, but I do have a conscience." He had pointed to various places on his head to indicate his point, and she watched him with little concern. "I was like you once, with some softness of heart, but I was unfostered, unfledged and unlucky. Fortune struck me a hard blow since and continually hit me down, and I am as you see me, like a hard plastic ball. I am pervious to subtle cracks and chips now and again, with one sentient point in the middle of it. There is still hope for me, I think."

"Hope of what?"

"Of becoming flesh once more."

Jane did not change her expression, but decided he had much wine, too much. However, given that point, she had not known how to respond, it was such an odd statement.

"You bear an odd expression, are you puzzled Miss Eyre?" He asked, watching her, "You, who faintly pretty, but not more than I am handsome, by your standards, yet it puzzles you and therefore makes it easier for you to stare at me, searching no doubt for my imperfections and then search the rug for comparable traits. Young lady, in light of such things, I am disposed to saw goodnight." He had risen then, walking from his chair to the mantle, and he leaned on it. He exposed his shape and features well then, his chest was large and did not fit with his limbs, they seemed too long, it would have made him ugly if not for the way he carried himself. Pride made him likeable, unconscious may it be, and he possessed an easy manner and complete indifference to his appearance. He relied on his other qualities to make up for his physical appearance, she guessed, and Jane could see how people probably put complete faith in him, blind to his physical defaults. "I am disposed to say goodnight," He said once more. "That is why I invited you here, Adele, nor Pilot would provide enough company to entertain me. Nor Mrs. Fairfax, though a good company she can be. I decided you would best suit me because you puzzle me, have since I first met you. I had almost forgotten you, other ideas have driven you from my mind, but now, I am to be put at ease. I shall dismiss what I do not like and recall what I do. I wish to draw you out, so speak, I want to learn more of you."

Jane smiled then, she recalled, instead of talking, but it was not complacent nor submissive.

"Speak to me."

"What about?'

"Whatever you like, you can choose the subject and content."

It had struck Jane then that he may want her to speak in order to show off, and she resigned to think he had chosen much the wrong person.

"You are dumb." Jane looked at him and remained dumb, as he called it. He approached and bent down, his face has been very close to her own, his glance into her own eyes haughty. "Stubborn, I think." His watched her. "And annoyed. Ah! There is the emotion, consistent it is. I did ask in such a way to make you angry. I am sorry, I was insolent, wasn't I. You are not my inferior, not in status, but in youth only." He corrected. "I only wish for you to quell my thoughts, which are old and rusted like a nail." He stood back, his half apology issued.

"I am willing to amuse you, but I do not think I am much up to the task."

"Well first, do you agree I have a right to be masterful; abrupt, demanding maybe exacting on occasion. On the grounds that I am old enough to be your father, and I have vast worldly experience were you have none."

"Do as you like."

"That is no answer, or more so irritating, evasive. Tell me clearly."

"You have no right to command me, age is a number that only indicates days awake on the earth, that does not mean you are more sound minded or justified in your treatment of someone. If you claim mastery, it must be from experience and time used well."

"Promptly said, however I dislike it. Then, mastery aside, will you still receive my orders when they come, now and then, and without being hurt by a tone of command?" Jane recalled that she had smiled then, and he had been amused because it became apparent that he was not aware he was paying her to be there. "That smile is well enough, but speak too."

"I was thinking that very few employers care much about whether or nor their paid subordinates are displeased with receiving an order."

"Paid subordinate indeed! Ah yes, you are being paid to teach Adele, I forgot." He chuckled, "With that in mind, will you humour me?"

"No, not on that ground." Jane had said, "But with the fact that you forgot and you have been treating me like an equal, as long as it continues in that direction, I agree."

"And you won't mistake informality for insolence?"

"I do not think that is possible, I do not think any salary could produce such a mistake"

"Humbug, anyone will collapse under the pressure of money. But I mentally shake hands for your answer, it was very clever, despite its flaws. What it lacks in substance you make up for it in frankness and sincerity. You do not see this openness in manner, it is all stupid, coarse minded, affectation and contrary manners of response. Not many girls your age would produce such a thing as you just have. This is not flattery, you just sit within a different place than your peers. I am sure you too have defects enough."

Jane recalled thinking that it was the same for him, he too must have faults enough to balance out the rest of his being. His had caught her eye as she thought this and he understood what meaning lay there. "You are right, I have plenty of faults. I have liked a colourful life, that which makes my past a thing of disrepute. I was put on the wrong track at 20, and from there have never recovered. I envy you, you have a clean mind that has not yet been polluted with the strain of life."

"What was your memory like at 19?"

"I was your equal, I was educated, or almost so, a good man for the most part. I am no villain, and you are not to believe me so. Misguided maybe, but nothing more, due to my circumstances. You must learn to keep secrets when they are told to you, to keep them locked away within your chest."

"How can I when I lack knowledge.

"Because I am to tell you, and I am sure others will confide in you in future." He had replied. "When fate wronged me, I did have the wisdom to remain cool and calm, I became desperate and broken and I degenerated. No simpleton can have had it worse than I, and I confess that I am on his level. I wish I had stood firm, and I give you this advice Miss. Dread remorse when you are tempted, remorse is a poison that shall eat away at you."

"Repentance is said to be a cure."

"It is no cure, reformation may be a cure, but reform that I may, I have no strength to hold to it since I am cursed, burdened and hampered. Yet I have a right to seek pleasure, and get it come what may. I shall have pleasure in life, cost what it may."

"Then you shall degenerate further still."

"That is possible. Yet why should I care, if I can taste pleasure, sweet and fresh. Like fresh honey that a bee makes."

"You will get stung."

"How would you know? Yu have not tried. Yet how serious and solemn you look. You have no right to preach to me, you have not even passed through the realms into adulthood. How ignorant you are of life and it's mysteries."

"I remind you of your owns words, sir, error brings remorse, and remorse the poison of life."

"Who speaks of error now? I think it was more my inspiration than temptation, it was genial and soothing. I know that- and lo! It is no devil, I assure you. Because it has put on robes of an angel of light, and I think I must open my heart to it when it calls on me. "

"Distrust it, it is not a true angel."

"Again, you do not know, by what measure do you distinguish the devil from a messenger of god? Guide or seducer?"

"Judging from your appearance and mannerisms, you seemed troubled when it came back to you. You will become miserable if you continue."

"It bears a message, the best in the world. As to the rest, you do not keep my mind or heart, so don't fret on my behalf. My angel shall come and I shall embrace it, see now it comes to me." He held out his arms and embraced it, an invisible creature. "Ah I have received it, and it has already done my heart good."

"I don't understand you at all, one minute we speak of mistakes and their consequences, the pain and anguish of one soul, to something not logical, not thoughts at all. The ravings of a madman. I understand the loss of perfection in a person, regretting your own imperfection. It seems to me that if you tried, you could find yourself improved with time. Find your strength and resolve and make it so, in a few years it may be truth, and you may return to pleasure."

"Wisely said, and it is just now that I pave the road with my good intention."

"What?"

"Durable good intent, Miss Eyre, good intent that shall endure better."

"Better than?"

"You doubt me as I doubt myself, yet I know what my aim is and my motives, and I pass a law that both are correct."

"That cannot be, you have to pass legislation."

"They are right and true with verified stature. Unheard of combinations and have unheard of rules."

"That sounds dangerous, and liable to abuse of some sort."

"You are sententious! I swear I shall not abuse it."

"You are just as fallible as the rest."

"I am, are you not?"

"A human that is fallible should not have power such as that, should not arrogate such power, something divine and perfect should be left safely trusted."

"What power?"

"Anything strange and unsanctioned course of action. 'let it be right'"

"The very words, you have said them."

"May it be right, then." Jane had risen then, her mind unsettled as the conversation turned down a road she did not enjoy.

"Where are you going?"

"It is past Adele's bedtime."

"You are afraid of me."

"Strange language has been used, but I am not afraid."

"You are so afraid, you reek of it in your blunder."

"I am apprehensive simply because I have no desire to talk nonsense."

"If you did I am sure it would be in the same grave manner you talk sense with. Do you never laugh, Miss Eyre, don't answer, I can see you do not but rarely. But I am sure you can laugh, and heartily. You are no more naturally austere than I am naturally viscous. You have been shuffled into a corner where you find safety within confinement behind emotional walls, as well as physical ones. You fear man, brother or otherwise, and so you do not speak freely, so not smile or produce sounds that are more natural to you. In time you may act naturally around me, for I find it impossible to be conventional around you, and then your looks and movement will have more vivacity and variety, I think. I see in you movement, a curious bird that peaks out through a cage, restless and captive, but if it were free, would soar high. You are still leaving?"

"It is nine."

"Adele has gone out of the room, you did not think I was watching her, but lo, you are mistaken. She will return, wearing her present no doubt. Wait and see how the miniature of Celine Varens comes, like she used to rise out of the-never mind. My tender feelings will now be shocked, so stay, and see how it affects me."

The little girl did run in, wearing her new dress, her legs in tights and feet wearing white sandals. She twirled and gushed, spinning for him on her toes and then dropping to the floor and said something in French, which prompted his response. "Pre-cise-ly!" he said to the child, "- and that is how she charmed all of my money out of my English pocket. You see, I have been green too, Miss Eyre, and the green grass that freshens you used to freshen me.. My spring, is gone, and has left me with a French flower in my care, with no care to its roots where it sprang up, but attracted to money, I have found myself caring for the thing, even when it is artificial. More for recovering from my sins, one good work at a time, as it once was said. Maybe I shall tell you all this someday. Good-night."

Jane lay on her bed, going over the event of that night like a bad dream, yet she was so transfixed by it. Getting into bed, she sighed, she did not understand him at all, and he was like a faraway creature that had landed on earth with such peculiar notions. As she let sleep overtake her, she found herself uneasy, as if a sinister force was watching her in the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Here is a fluffy chapter I made up for you all! I hope you enjoy! And thank you for the reviews, I really enjoy getting feedback!**

"His presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire."  
>― Charlotte Brontë, <em>Jane Eyre<em>

The steady constant footfalls of her feet on the ground helped her push on, the sounds of the air, the smell of the trees and the gloomy house behind her. She panted as she stopped, walking back towards the house, as she looked up she thought she saw a figure watching her from the roof, but she blinked and it was gone, and Jane shivered. More than once in her stay had she felt like someone was watching her, a dark oppressive feeling that haunted her dreams. Even her dreams betrayed her, the man crept in as well, those dark eyes watching her within the corner of her mind, as if he could sense she was dreaming of him in some small way.

As she neared the house, she wiped her head as the sun was higher in the shy but the chill did not touch her. Taking off her shoes at the backdoor, Jane walked up the stairs slowly, her body tired from the run. The bathroom near her room was down the corridor, when the house was rebuilt it was not fashioned with modern commodities. The previous Mr. Rochester had installed six bathrooms, one by the kitchen and one on the main floor, two on the second floor for guests and two in the servant's quarters of old. For whatever reason, her room was in this long corridor that extended far too long in the dark. And there were not showers, just a toilet and sink. The baths were old styled marble tubs, which one had to manually fill with hot water.

Jane stared at the tub, her muscles ached but smelling was not an option either. Grabbing a large pail from storage, she headed back down the stairs to the kitchen. Filling the old cauldron that hung over the fire with water, she then filled all the pots she could find and put water in them and waited for the boiling point. Leaning against the counter, she closed her eyes and looked up, rubbing a cramp in her neck. Her lips parted in a groan of pain as she squeezed her muscles, hitting a tender spot in her lower neck she sucked in air quickly. Making a small noise, she massaged it once more, squeezing her eyes tightly.

"So that is where that shirt went." A voice growled and Jane's eyes flashed open, looking in the direction of the voice, seeing her employer. Jane's mind quickly found the reason her spoke such, and looked down at the shirt. She had been so used to wearing it sleeping, it became a part of her wardrobe and used when needed. She felt a heat on her cheeks and she closed her lips tightly, clenching her teeth. "Jane Eyre with nothing to say?"

"It was lent to me." She replied stiffly, as the steam began to rise off the cauldron and his eyes flickered to the stove and the fire. Pushing herself off the counter, she grabbed oven mitts and walked over to check it. Long strides followed her and a hand blocked her way. "You can not lift it."

"I shall." She replied stiffly.

"It was not a question Miss. Eyre." He said softly, taking the mitts from her. "I assume you are drawing a bath." Jane nodded as she stepped back as he lifted the heavy iron pot, and she watched him from behind. He was wearing a dress shirt of royal blue, his muscles seemed to ripple under the fabric as he lifted the pot, pouring the water into her pail. She was aware of the rounded tone of his biceps, the movement of muscle in his back under the fabric. Tucking her head downward, she waited until he had finished and thanked him. "You intend to carry this upstairs?" He asked as the girl gripped the handle.

"Yes."

"I will carry it for you." He said, removing her hands from the pail as he grasped it. The water on the stove began to whistle and she turned her head in its direction. "Go, tend to it, I shall return forthwith." Jane nodded, there was no arguing with him. As she turned off the burners, she her mind wandered back to his form there, his touch still burned on her hands where his warmth was much greater than hers. She rubbed her hands together, holding them over the steam as the hot air surrounded her skin. His footsteps marked his return and she grasped the pot holders and turned, her eyes scanning him. His hair had grown much since he had returned, it curled more as it got longer and he looked much like a gypsy. His eyes regarded her and a smile formed on his lips quickly followed by a smirk. "Here, fill it. I work for you now."

Jane regarded him carefully and poured the water from the pots into the pail, the hot water would be just enough, but the look on his face indicated his was not pleased. "Is something wrong sir?"

"Is this all you are using?" He growled, his eyes watching her from his position by the door.

"I do not need more."

"This barely fills half the tub Miss Eyre." He replied.

"It is enough for me, those tubs are far too large." She replied as she poured in the last pot of water. Running cold water from the sink she began to cool the remaining pots off, aware that he was watching her intently.

"I do not understand you Miss Eyre." He said, "There is no shortage of water, yet you use so little. Are you so afraid of comfort?"

"I use only that I need." She replied, looking at the pale. "The water grows cold." He huffed and picked up the pale, walking upstairs. She smiled softly as he left, a chuckle in her throat.

"Utterly ridiculous." She said softly. When all the pots were finished, she walked up the stairs, passing him as he came out from the bathroom, pail in hand. "Thank you." He watched her slide past him, shutting the door softly as she did so. He smirked at the door, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head when the door opened again, an arm appearing holding his shirt.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"It is your shirt sir." She replied form behind the door. "You sounded attached to it."

"I am." He growled, his eyes seeing that she had not regarded the mirror that lay on the wall, he could see her clearly. "I appreciate the gesture, but I require you clean it first." He smiled as her eyes hit the mirror, the arm retracting and the door shut once more. "Shall I go get you more water Miss Eyre?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Part fluff, part book. Enjoy!**

"Returning, I had to cross before the looking-glass; my fascinated glance involuntarily explored the depth it revealed. All looked colder and darker in that visionary hollow than in reality: … the strange little figure there gazing at me, with a white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit." - Jane Eyre

Jane was more aware than before about the acute heat on her cheeks whenever he came into the room, and she disliked her own discomposure. She sat just as still, her lips neutral as she could make them, and looked everywhere but at him. He had not bothered her, and she had left the shirt folded in his study for him, clean as a whistle. Today was Saturday, Adele had been doing well and she had agreed to have some fun with the child as reward. Adele had coming running into her room early in the morning, taking her hand, Jane being not awake nor dressed in proper clothing, and pulled her down into the study. There was a cd player, and Jane rubbed sleep from her eyes as the child put a cd rom in it. Jane guessed it was battery powered, since there was no cord.

Adele jumped out and down, Jane stretched, moving slightly to the introduction to the music. She wore a tank top and shorts for her sleep wear, her hair reflected a major case of bed head, but it was just the two of them in the room.

_WHOA! I feel good!_

Jane mock sang, Adele did the same, as Jane pushed her hair up with her hands as she twisted her hips. Moving toward the little girl, she moved her shoulders to the music and sang along, the little girl dancing alongside her.

_I feel good  
>I knew that I would now<br>I feel good, I knew that I would now  
>So good, so good<br>I got you _

Jane pointed at the girl, and child pointing back as they danced now hand in hand to the beat around the room. A smile flashed across Jane's face, the pale look replaced with a rosy glow.

_I feel nice, like sugar and spice  
>I feel nice, like sugar and spice<br>So nice, so nice  
>cause I got you<em>

Jane picked the child up, spinning her in her arms, Adele's arms around her neck as they spun.

_When I hold you in my arms  
>I know that I can do no wrong<br>When I hold you in my arms  
>My love won't do you no harm<em>

She put Adele down, and they jumped around with the song. Jane sang along with the tune, making jazz hands like she had done in drama class. As Adele sank to the couch, dizzy, Jane did the movements for her, putting on a show.

_I feel nice, like sugar and spice  
>I feel nice, like sugar and spice<br>So nice, so nice  
>cause I got you<em>

_When I hold you in my arms  
>I know that I can't do no wrong<br>When I hold you in my arms  
>My love can't do me no harm<em>

_I feel nice, like sugar and spice  
>I feel nice, like sugar and spice<br>So nice, so nice  
>I got you<em>

_I feel good  
>I knew that I would now<br>I feel good, I knew that I would  
>So good, so good<br>I got you_

Jane did a move and froze, saying the lyric, pushing her hair up and doing a pose, making the little girl laugh. She walked toward the child slowly, singingly along as the girl giggled.

_So good, so good  
>but I got you<em>

_So good, so good  
>that I got you<em>

Jane struck the final pose, and Adele clapped for her as the next song started. Jane heard clapping from behind her and she froze, her face turning red as Adele ran towards Mr. Rochester. "Is this what you call teaching, Miss Eyre?" He growled, his eyes on her and she felt them, and she wrapped her arms around her chest.

"Today is a holiday." She replied flatly, turning around and waking toward him. He did not move, leaning against the doorway in casual wear. Jane clenched her teeth, trying to look past him as he blocked her way. "May I go back to my room?"

"You want to leave so soon J-Miss Eyre." He asked, cocking his head to one side and looking her up and down. "Is your holiday done so soon?"

"I am cold." She said, forcing the scowl away from her face. He smirked at her, looking past her to something. He held up a finger and walked past her, opening something and closing it, Jane did not care to know.

"Here." He said, holding an object up to her, "Put this on and stay here. Don't run out on this little holiday." Jane eyed the sweater, a hoodie from some foreign place, and grasped it with caution. "Come now Miss Eyre, it is not a snake going to bite you." She eyed him quickly, trying to guess if this was a joke, but looked away and took the thing and he chuckled. "Are you afraid of me Miss Eyre? You have barely said three words to me since-"

"I have had nothing to say." She replied, pulling the hoodie over her head, having turned away from him.

"Jane Eyre with nothing to say," He growled, chuckling as he turned the music up by Adele's request. Jane turned, watching the girl dance to some song she seemed to adore. "Surely such a simple thing cannot have distressed you." She said nothing, clasping her hands behind her as she stood watching Adele. "Miss Eyre, you are blushing."

"I do not find this amusing." She replied, and she looked at the window. "I must ask to leave."

He narrowed his eyes at her, his lips twitched and he held up a hand. "I shall saw no more, stay, please." Jane looked at him from beneath lowered eyelashes, swallowing and shaking her head as she walked over to that direction. The song changed and a slow song came on, and a hand was held before her and she looked at it blankly. He huffed and moved his fingers, "Yes, Miss Eyre, it is attached. Will you dance?"

She looked at it for a while longer, and he growled and took her hand, pulling her close and moving to the music. Jane looked away, turning her head to look at the bookcase on the far wall. "Adele's mother was an opera singer." Jane blinked, looking back at him quickly with no general expression than surprise. "Ah yes Miss Eyre, I had a great passion for the lady, and I thought like a fool she returned it. I even believed myself to idol, ugly as I am." He moved her around the room, and Jane listened, her expression unchanged. "I paid for her to live in a hotel, personal attendants, cars, diamonds, and cashmeres. I was on the road to ruin just for a women. I was unoriginal, Miss Eyre. One day I called when she did not expect me, and she was out, so I waited, enjoying the smells of the place, the air she breathed.

"She had no purity about her, no virtue. Just the smell of musk and amber that was her perfume. It became overwhelming and I stepped out, smoking a cigar as I often do. I recognized her coat, for I had given it to her, across the street. My heart leapt with excitement at her return, but I saw a man step out of a car, kiss her and turn toward the hotel, running.

"Now you might not have felt jealous before, and I am inclined to believe you have not since you do not know love. Yet a time will come when you shall know both, one as ugly as the other good. You think all existence lapses in as quiet a flow that in your youth has hitherto slipped away. Floating with closed eyes and muffled ears, you neither see the rock bristling not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at their base. But the day shall come I tell you – and you mark my works - you will come some day to a craggy pass in the channel, where the whole life's stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult, foam and noise: either you will be dragged to ashes on crag points, or lifted up and borne on some master-wave into a calmer current – as I am now."

Jane gave him a strange look, not being able to read his eyes well. "Did you leave the balcony?"

"Ah I had forgotten. Well, I should have, but I felt the green snake within me, making its way to my heart. It is strange that I should confide this to you, you strange creature. I wonder if it is because of your graveness, considerateness and caution in way of secrets. How unlike a man such as I, with an opera girl for a mistress to tell you stories, you such an innocent child. I know your mind, and it is equal to my own, it shall not become infected, for it is unique and peculiar. You refresh me yet."

"Sir?"

"Ah, the balcony. I remained, I thought they would come up to the room, her bed and belongings. I prepared an ambush by closing the curtains and the door slightly, so I could hear and see. The lovers came in, her glad in the very silks and jewels I had given to her. He was a military, I knew him slightly from the club. As soon as I saw him, I was no longer jealous. Any woman that could betray me with a man like that was not worth loving. She had duped me, and I was the fool for it. Something of mine was on the table and they spoke of me, insulted me with what language they knew, neither were as educated as you or I. It was then I opened the doors, and liberated her from my protection. She was to rid herself from the hotel followed by her disregarded screams, hysterics, prayers, protestations, and convulsions. I gave the man a black eye, and some broken ribs the next time I saw him.

"I found out six months later that she was pregnant with Adele, which I can not tell if it is true or not. She looks nothing like me, Pilot is closer in looks than she. Some years after I left her, she left Adele alone, ran off with a musician or singer. I do not claim to be her father, nor do acknowledge the claims made, but I could not leave her there, so very destitute. I pulled her out of the slime and mud of the poor grounds of Paris and took her here, transplanted her so she could grow. Mrs. Fairfax found you to aid her, but now that you know of her history, you might change your mind." The song had ended and Jane pulled away, rubbing her arm as she thought. "You will come to tell me you desire a new post."

"No, it is not her fault. She did not choose her mother or father. She cannot answer for your faults, or her mothers. She is forsaken-" Jane looked at him, maintaining his eye contact. "-by both her mother and by you, I shall cling to her like never before. I could not lean towards a spoilt heiress, who would view me with hate. A tiny orphan who regards me as a friend is much better."

"You view it in such a light." He said, crossing his arms as he leaned on a nearby desk. "What a strange creature you are Miss Eyre. You dance like you are out of a movie, yet you speak and act like a nun."

"Sir?" Mrs. Fairfax called, "Your agent's here!"

"Ah that is my cue Miss Eyre." He stood, turning the music off as he walked back, his smell wafting to her as he passed, and the cologne he used made her senses tingle. He paused as he passed her, he could see the rosy hue on her cheeks, her long hair unruly and untamed as it surrounded her face and down her back. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Eyre." He left the room, and she felt where his hand had held hers and she took a breath.

How strong he was. His muscles had seemed to firm when her fingers touched his shoulder, and hands were strong. She felt the heat on her cheek rise again, deepening the look on her face. She lightly slapped her cheeks, closing her eyes as she turned around. Admiring men was not her job, nor was finding them attractive, mysterious and captivating. _Get a hold of yourself Jane._ She thought, rushing upstairs to her room to change.


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: All belongs to CB, and is a tribute to her work. Many lines are direct quotations, so if you recognise it, that is why. A modern twist on a classic. Enjoy!_

_"I do not think, sir, you have any right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have; your claim to superiority depends on the use you have made of your time and experience."  
>― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre<em>

Jane sat in her room, the day's events had proved relatively mundane aside from the morning's activities. It was then that she really thought about what the tale relayed to her. It struck her that is the child _had_ resembled Mr. Rochester then chances were he would have favored her more. Another point worth mentioning, or justifying, was that many Englishmen of titles often kept mistresses; history was full of them. This did not mean it was void of trouble or that this fact made it morally correct, but it was indeed a fact. Mr. Rochester was no different than many of his forefathers, embracing the romanticised dancer or singer in a wave of heated passion. Jane noted that there had been a strange sort of change in him, his description of emotion, all within the context of telling her such a secret.

Jane did not understand why he took her into his confidence, she was nothing to him but a young employee, and he seemed to take great pains in making her uncomfortable. As she dressed for bed, she looked at the set of clothes she had been wearing and frowned. She did not want to wear _this_ to bed, not after he had seen her in it. He entered her dreams enough as it is, she did not need to fuel to fire. She retrieved a nightgown, a gift upon graduating school from Miss Temple, it was knee length and lacy. Both feminine and sultry, though Jane had no knowledge of it being such, it was tied to her shoulders through thin straps of delicate lace, connecting to the rest. It had been an odd gift, some at expressed it being such, but to Jane it was the first truly feminine thing she had ever received, and owned subsequently.

She remembered walking down a small street, sharing the moment with Miss Temple as they drank coffee, and her attention had been drawn to a small shop. It was almost a bygone creation, this lacy white nightdress in the window, but Jane had fallen in love with it. Jane smiled to herself at the memory, it was the day Miss Temple had told her of the engagement, and Jane had been thrilled for her. The one person who truly cared for her, nurtured her and protected her while the rest of the world walked by in ignorance. Jane had never been so thrilled to receive a gift, being that gift were few and far between, and treasured this creation more than anything. The nightgown came also with a cover, a matching white lacy housecoat that served no purpose than to look very pretty, but it gave Jane an empowered feeling to embrace her own femininity.

Jane was not aware that she talked very little around him, or that she enjoyed his speeches immensely. She was aware that he was knowledgeable, he liked to open a mind to an unacquainted world; scenes and glimpses that were not all corrupt. These new ideas interested her greatly, provided new images to explore within her drawings, and never startled or troubled by one noxious allusion. He was easy in his manner, he was frank and cordial but altogether friendly which in turn drew her to him, as draw by a connection unseen as kindness. Jane found that she often forgot he was her employer, something she was loathe to admit, he seemed to treat her more as an equal, perhaps a relative. He was no less imperious, but that did not bother her, it was his way. It was this that made life fun again, Jane found herself seeing things in colour once more, no bound by black and grey within dress and life.

He was not ugly in her eyes, and as she dwelt on it, determined that she found him pleasurable to look at, genial, his face was the object she liked to see best. His mere presence was more welcoming and warm than the largest fire. Jane was aware of his faults, he flaunted them regularly to her; _he is proud, sardonic, harsh to inferiority of every description, his attention to me it balanced by this, it seems. Moody, very moody, if I admit, he often wants me to come and read to him, which is something I do not understand, and I often find him alone in the study, face bent towards his arms, and looking with a malignant scowl on his features. This moodiness, harshness and former faults,- are they truly former? He does seem different lately, like he has made an effort to correct them – must be from some harsh, twist of fate. He has principles and high ones at that, he is educated, well educated, and I think he must have some purer tastes- all of which would have shown had not fate twisted his nature. There is much good in him, and it seems such a same to see it wasting away. I grieve for him, even if he will not grieve for himself. _

Jane found her mind running as she lay in bed, all these thoughts and explanations, twists and turns. Her young mind, however knowledgeable for nineteen, was not truly aware of everything around her. She wondered if and when he would leave once more, the thought pained her but Mrs. Fairfax had said he goes away often and rarely stays here. _What if he leaves before spring, and is gone through summer? How dull everything shall turn, joyless sunshine even on a fine day._

Closing her eyes, she drifted into a fitful sleep. Dreams of strange murmurs and laughter, dark scenes and a small boy running after her. _Where are you rat?_ Echoed throughout, and she felt the fear as she hid behind the curtain, clutching the book as a life link to a different world. Small, frail and thing was her plight, with a pasty complexion and freckles. **_Jane. _**The boy, one of three awful cousins, was holding a rod, a tool he frequently used against her, his footsteps moving along the floor. Jane tried not the make a noise, yet there it was, a whimper from her lips. _ Where is she? The animal, has she run out into the rain? _Jane knew she should reveal herself, lest being discovered. **_Jane._** In the back of her mind, she heard a laughter that unnerved her, a face blending with her cousins as she stepped out from her hiding place. This pudgy faced boy with mean eyes looked at her, given private tutoring and more food than should be allowed, grinned with malice.**_ Jane._** Jane shivered, the murky laughter seeing in once more as she approached the child as he sat in an armchair. It was like that, this dark room with this fearsome creature of her childhood, the sudden strike from him as a loud laughter made her sit straight up.

Jane panted, her heart racing with many types of fear. She grabbed her phone and shone the light about – nothing. The room was dark and eerie, and Jane wished there was a lamp she could keep on, or a plug in for a nightlight. She caught her breathe and panted, trying to sleep again, but dreams of the red room haunted her dreams, a voice whispering her name over and over within the horror, like a plea for her. She woke many times, fitful and uneasy, until a clock struck in the hall and she jumped. Cursing that infernal old clock, she counted, two in the morning. As she lay there, she suddenly was aware of the door being touched, as if fingers had grasped or swept by the panels in a groping way outside, then touching the handle as if to enter. "Who is there?" She called, her heart racing in her ears. Nothing, not a peep of any living thing.

"Pilot." She breathed, "He often comes up here to Mr. Rochester's room, I have seen him in the morning outside his door. How silly." She spoke, her words sounded hollow but none the less comforting. She lay back down, resolved to have sleep. And a dream seemed to come quickly, alas not to be as a sound so frightening that is made her blood and bones turn to ice.

A laugh, low and demonic; supressed and deep, uttered so near, like it had been pressed through the keyhole and into her ear. The bed was near enough to the door to make the sound seem amplified, and Jane froze, unsure whether it was a creature of the forest, the very things that came from nightmares and other dimensions, lurked at her bedside or crouched by her pillow. Jane rose, seeing nothing still when the sound came again. It was outside, right outside her door, the very panels shook with it. Jane ran to the door, bolting it quickly. "Who is there?"

A gurgle, a moan, followed by long steps that made towards the third floor where a door opened and closed via a staircase. _Grace Poole? Grace Poole possessed by a demon? _Jane shivered and grabbed her cover, deciding that Mrs. Fairfax needed to know, call a priest or something, anything. Removing the bolt, Jane entered the hallway after putting on her housecoat, turning to go to Mrs. Fairfax when she saw a candle burning outside her door. She picked it up carefully, it was small, like it had been burning for some time. The aim was dim, she realized, and she looked around in a puzzled state when she smelt something burning.

Turning her head, she saw a door slightly open with smoke leaking from it. That was the door of Mr. Rochester, and Grace Poole, the demon and Mrs. Fairfax were no longer on her mind. Like magic, she was within the chamber after blowing out the candle she had found; fire flamed around the bed, the large canopy ablaze as well of the curtains surrounding it. Her employer lay stretched out, naked, on the sheets in a deep sleep.

"Wake up!" Jane cried, touching his shoulders and shaking him as she fought the smell of smoke within her lungs. "Wake! Wake!" He murmured and turned, the smoke had rendered him lifeless. There was a basin of water, the man had more affinity for old things than anyone she had ever met, and she was glad to find that both the basin and the ewer were filled with water. Picking them up, she hurled the water at the bed, splashing both the flames and the man. It was not enough. In a panic Jane flew to her own room, grabbing her water from her room; a pitcher, a basin and a pot full from the last rain which had leaked in, and added that to the flames. She added it to the flame, and it quenched it at last.

"Is there a flood?" The man growled, finding himself in a puddle of water, and she looked about the room. It was dark, the hiss of the extinguished element lingered.

"No." She croaked, the smoke from the fire had caused her voice to flee. "A fire, but it's gone and you are quenched. I shall get some light."

"In the name of all the elves in Christendom, is that Jane Eyre?" He demanded, "What have you done with me, you witch, sorceress? Who else is here, aiding you in drowning me?"

"Let me find a lamp, but please get up. Someone has been in here sir, but not me, and lit your room ablaze."

"There!" He growled, "I am up. I warn you against a light just yet, if you insist I fear you may regret it. Let me at least dress myself." Jane froze and she turned away in the darkness, her cheeks hot from the fire and a burning within. "Ah yes, this will do." He pulled on something, shorts most likely, or pants. "Go for your lamp girl." Jane did, she ran for her lantern within her room, lighting it and returning. He took the lamp and held it up, looking at bed, it was black and scorched, the sheets drenched and the carpet was swimming in what.

"What is it? And who did it?" He asked.

Jane told him what had happened, every detail but leaving out her own nightmares. The laugh she described in the most detail, because it had scared her so. She told to him of the candle outside her room, his door open and the smoke, the room ablaze and the water she had gone and grabbed as quickly as her feet would allow. His face was grave, and grew wore as the story progressed, but not out of astonishment, but concern. He did not speak when she was done, and she felt restless as his eyes took in the girl before him.

She was unaware of her possession having being blackened with smoke, slight burn marks where flame had come to close to its owner. Her face was slightly grew from smoke as well, her hands too where the flames had reached. He saw all acutely, and was very aware of the danger she had placed herself in, ignorant that she was of it.

"Shall I get Mrs. Fairfax?"

"Heavens, what for? There is nothing she can do, let her sleep."

"John or Leah maybe?"

"Be still." He said, his voice soft in a way she had never heard. He placed the lantern on the dresser that was nearby and he strode over somewhere and picked something up that she could not see. He returned and wrapped a blanket around her, "You can not be warm enough in your – shawl. Take this and sit in that armchair there, place your feet on the footrest so they do not get wet. I am going to leave for a few minutes, I shall take the lantern or lamp, whichever you prefer to call it. Stay here, do not move a muscle. I shall pay a visit to the second story." He stood after she had been placed in the armchair safely, and grasped the lantern. "Remember, do not move. And don't call out."

Jane was left in total darkness, the singed smell lingered among a new damp smell she did not like. She heard footsteps, his, and they echoed in the hall towards to the second floor, or third floor? She no longer knew what was up or down, exhaustion crept where adrenaline had been. Time elapsed, it was long and she felt her eyelids heavy and her body cold, despite the blanket. She wished to be in her own room once more, but did not want to risk her employer's displeasure. There were footfalls, and she stirred, hoping that it was not the demon returned.

He entered and she was aware he was gloomy, pale. "I know all now, it is much as I thought." He stated setting the lantern down on the dresser once more.

"How?"

He said nothing, his arms folded as he stood watching the ground. "I can not recall if you said you saw someone when you opened your door."

"I did not, just the candle."

"And a laugh, yes, and odd laugh?" He questioned, "You have heard it before I think, or something like it."

"Yes, when I arrived here. Grace Poole laughs like that. She is elderly, I believe."

"Ah yes, Grace Poole. You have guessed what has occurred then, and are right." He nodded, not looking in her direction. "The only people to know are within this room, and it must stay this way. You are no talking fool, say nothing. I shall account for the state of affairs. Go back to your room, I can sleep well on the sofa in the library. It is almost four, many will be up soon." The fact was true, everyone rose early in this house for there was so much to do.

"Goodnight then." Jane responded, placing the blanket on the chair and moving towards the door.

He seemed surprised, which struck her as odd since he had just told her to leave.

"What?" He asked, "You would leave me so abruptly? Just quit me, and so soon?"

"You told me to go." She countered, facing him.

"Yes, but not with no words between us, no acknowledgement of good will. Not so-so-short and dry, cut and run sort of fashion. Jane, you have saved my life! – snatched me from a horrible and excruciating death!" He looked at her keenly then, his eyes searching her face. "Yet you walk past like we are strangers. We must at least shake hands."

He held out his hand, and Jane looked it much like she had in the room when they had danced. She placed her own in his, and he clasped both hands around it. "You have saved my life. I take pleasure in owing you such a debt. I can say nothing more, nothing else will suffice. I could not tolerate such a debt to any other creature but you, and you alone. I feel your benefits no burden, Jane."

He seemed to stare, gaze at her face and his eyes lingered on her lips, their faces seemed closer than at the start. Jane saw words dancing on his lips that he did not say, and he checked himself. "Goodnight again then. There is no debt, no burden you speak of, or obligation."

"I knew-" He said in a breathless whisper, "-you would do me some good in some way at some time; I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression and smile did not –" He stopped, once more his gaze lingered on her and she felt a pull within her to get closer to him, to enact a scene that had happened within her dreams that she felt ashamed to remember. "-did not-" He said quickly, "-strike delight to my inner most heart for nothing. People talk of natural sympathies; I have heard of good genies – and there is some truth in the wildest fantasy. My cherished-" His words seem to slow, and she found herself holding her breathe, "-preserver, good night." Such a strange energy about him, a fire within his looks.

"I am glad I happened to be awake." She responded, turning to leave.

"What?!" He exclaimed softly, "You will go?"

"I am cold." She said, her voice seemed not her own, a whisper with words she had meant to be strong.

"Cold? You are standing in a pool of water, but of course you are. Go, Jane." He said, but his hands did not release her and she was finding herself reluctant to leave. Their eyes held a gaze that lingers for too long and too close to one another and Jane fought it, this whole scenario was wrong.

"I heard Mrs. Fairfax stir." She said, needing an excuse.

"Ah, well go then." He said, relaxing his hands and releasing her. She left the room, her feet walking quickly and then running back to her room, shutting the door and locking it behind her, her hands on the coldness of the wood, her heart once more in her ears. His warmth had flooded her, his nearness startled her, the look in his eyes – a strange creature named desire. And it frightened her that she had returned such emotion so readily. She went to the bed, not thinking of sleep but entering into a fit of dreams that were stormy and passionate, and she found them almost as unnatural and frightening as she found herself wanting them.

**And that Ladies and Gents, is a good way to start a Monday morning! XD **


	11. Chapter 11

"Flirting is a woman's trade, one must keep in practice."  
>― Charlotte Brontë, <em>Jane Eyre<em>

Jane woke out of her feverish sleep and had dressed quickly, the excitement of the early morning still lingered. She wanted to see him, but was in a state of fear at doing so. Jane started the day as normal, Adele was in the little school room with her teacher, whose nerves were rattling like a prisoner in a cage. Jane half expected Mr. Rochester to come in, and she imagined him having done so many times, yet he did not appear. This heightened anticipation lingered throughout the morning and into the afternoon. Nothing extraordinary occurred, and the illusive nature of the main character of these events bothered Jane.

As Jane retreated to her room after teaching, she heard noises from Mr. Rochester's room, a hustle and bustle as it where. Leah, Mrs. Fairfax, John and his wife all seemed within the general area of his room. The people were not inside, but coming and going, voices lingering in the halls as they walked in several directions. Jane walked over, listening to the voices as she waited at the door, deciding which course of action to take.

"Lucky he wasn't burnt alive."

"I don't know why he insists on keeping candles lit, dangerous it is."

"How quick thinking it was to fetch a water jug."

"I wonder why-" A short faint giggle was heard, "-he woke no one."

"I just hope he won't catch a cold down in that cold sofa, awful draft."

Jane opened the door slightly, the door swinging inwards as she looked around. Everyone seemed to be cleaning up the blackened residue of the incident. Everything had already been replaced, scent lingered to replace the smells of singed fabric, and all that remains was the smoke on the glass, which Leah was cleaning. The curtains had not been replaced yet, but as Jane turned to face Leah, she faltered, seeing who was in charge of the new curtains. Grace Poole. The very creature was sitting before her in an old gown and apron, even wearing a cap- which suggested the women did not leave the past or her bed for much longer than was needed.

She was indeed calm for a woman who had just attempted murder on her employer, and Jane found it hard to bear. Jane could not understand why this person, who had just been confronted that very morning of her crime, was still present here. The woman looked up at Jane, nothing about her countenance suggested any fear, guilt or any particular emotion at all. Jane decided then, seeing this lack of repentance, to test the women. "Good day Grace." She started, "Has anything happened here? I thought I heard people talking together not long ago?"

"The master was reading in his bed last night; he fell asleep with a candle lit and the curtains caught on fire. Good thing he woke before the bed clothes or the woodwork caught, and he quenched the flames with a water jug."

"What a strange affair." Jane replied in a low voice, looking around before looking back at the woman. "Did Mr. Rochester wake no one? Did no one hear him move?"

Grace looked at her with eyes that showed much recognition, examining Jane before speaking again. "Us servants sleep far away from here Miss. We would not be likely to hear. You and Mrs. Fairfax sleep closest. But when gets old, sleep becomes rather heavy." The woman paused, then added on to her statement, a different tone to her words. "But young people never sleep heavily, Miss, and I should say you are a light sleeper. Perhaps you heard something."

"I did." Jane said, lowering her voice. "I thought it was Pilot at first, but Pilot can not laugh. I am certain I heard a laugh, a strange unearthly laugh."

The woman took a new needleful of thread, threading it carefully. "I hardly think the Master would laugh while being burnt. You must have been dreaming."

"I was not dreaming." Jane said with new warmth in her voice, the woman's cold tone startled her. The woman was still watching her with such an eye to make Jane nervous under such scrutiny.

"Have you told the Master you heard a laugh?"

"I have not had the opportunity of speaking to him today." Jane replied.

"And you did not think of opening your door and looking out?"

Jane understood then this woman was questioning her for information, to catch her unaware. "No, I bolted the door."

"Is that your usual practise?" The woman asked her, "Perhaps before you go to bed."

Jane mused that this woman was trying to ascertain her habits, to change her behaviour accordingly. "No, not usually, I did not see the need nor the danger." Jane softened her look and lowered her voice. "Perhaps I shall from now own, especially before I sleep."

"It is a good idea. We are isolated here, and you never known when robbers might strike. Our antiques are worth much, and many of our items are pure silver. The Master does not live here often, so he does not understand. He thinks this house is safe from harm, because we are not advanced. You must take care to protect yourself, you never know when mischief may occur. You can never be too safe." The woman said, her tone changed and she retreated to a quaker like state. Jane stared at her dumbfounded, at this self-possession and hypocrisy.

"The servant's meal is being served Grace." The cook said, appearing in the room. Ready to come down?"

"No, thank you dear, I shall a small amount of port and pudding on a tray and I shall take it upstairs."

"Meat, miss?"

"A little, and a little cheese, if we have some."

"And sago?"

"Nevermind it, I shall be down shortly to make it."

"Very good. Miss Eyre, Mrs. Fairfax wants you."

Jane went where she was bid, and Jane pondered the reason why Grace would have been kept on. She was not young or handsome, so he would have had no temptation there. Could it be that she had once held power over Mr. Rochester in his youth, creating such an advantage over him? What caprice could it of been? Some sort of indiscretion?

Jane had to shake her head, these thoughts would only get her into trouble. She could not allow her imagination to run away. Jane curled up in the study with the sketch book, her mind far away from her draws and Adele's constant prying. She wondered why she had not seen the preverbal master all day. She had so many things to say, to ask and see how it was answered. What wicked secret did she hold over him? Why did her keep her wicked secret? It did not matter if it irritated him, she knew the pleasure of vexing then soothing his wounds. It was the best part of talking to him, and she was careful not to go too far.

"Ah Jane!" Mrs. Fairfax said, placing tea down on a small table. "Drink this dear, you ate so little at dinner. Are you well?"

"Quite well, I assure you."

"Yu must learn to eat more dear, or else you shall waste away."

"I eat enough, I promise."

"Alright, dear. Ah it is a nice night out, I am glad. It will make his journey better."

"Journey?" Jane asked, turning her attention to the woman. "Whose journey?"

"Why, Mr. Rochester's of course. He has gone to Leas, Eshton, Ingram, Lynn, and the Dents. He might be away from some time, he will probably stay at each place for days at a time. It is his duty after all, as a gentleman and friend. Also the ladies are very fond of him, although you would not think it to look at him. Wealth and good blood does that you know."

"There are ladies at each place?"

"Mrs. Eshton has three daughters, I think. Young and elegant. There are the two honourable Ingram girls, Blanche and Mary. They are most beautiful, and mature. Blanche I have not seen for some time, but she was a very pretty child. And I daresay, she was 18 when I saw her last, and she was the belle of the ball."

"Ball? You host balls?"

"Of course, three times a year as a part of the experience."

Jane stifled a groan as she thought of it, a bunch of people in a crowded room pretending to be from a different era. "What is she like?"

"Oh so accomplished, she sings, dances, has a very fine figure, a great head for figures, she went to Oxford you know. She has such noble features, lovely skin and hair; so curly and thick. She loves marvellous in all she wears." And Mrs. Fairfax continued, Jane frowned, a feeling stirring in her heart as the woman went on. "Oh and she is such a favorite with him too!"


	12. Chapter 12

"Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs."  
>― Charlotte Brontë, <em>Jane Eyre<em>

Jane sat in her room, her brain overheating. _Fool, how could you think that __**you**__, you were a favorite with him. __**You **__be a __**favorite**__ of his? __**You **__be of any important? Go, away with your folly, you sicken me. _She got up, pacing as she fumed. _You, deriving pleasure from…from….occasional tokens shown by a man, a gentleman of the world to a dependant and novice. How dare you!? Poor- stupid- dupe! _ Jane made a noise, like a frustrated whine as she rubbed her arms.

**"Blanche often sings with Mr. Rochester." **

_Could not even self-interest make you wiser?_

**"Oh she had such a rich and powerful voice, and she can play so very well. Mr. Rochester himself said so." **

_You repeated to yourself this morning the brief scene last night? – Cover your eyes and be ashamed!_

**"It is very fortunate that she is still unmarried, and has chosen for wait for the right person. She is good with figures, and she already knows Mr. Rochester, would it not be very fortunate if they were to marry?"**

_He said something in praise of your eyes, did he? Blind puppy!_

"**There is an age difference, he is nearly 40, and she is nearly 25."**

_Open their bleared lips and look on your own accursed selfishness!_

**"He should not entertain the idea, but men will follow their-….hearts." **

_It does good to no woman to be flattered by her superior, who cannot possibly intend to marry her; it is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them – it will destroy them. _

Jane stopped, rocking on her heels as she made a face and put her face into her hands. "Am I in love with him? No, it…is not true." She sank to her knees, soft sobs emerging as she wrestled with this. _Listen, Miss Jane Eyre, to your own sentence. Draw yourself tomorrow, as what you are. Plan, little, irregular. Write under it, Portrait of a Governess – disconnected, poor and plain. _

_And then, you shall draw Blanche Ingram, in all her glory as described. The beauty of her curls, the loveliness of her face and body. Dress her in the grandest finery, and write under it; Blanche, an accomplished lady of rank. _

_You shall do this, and whenever you feel fancy towards him, you take these two pictures and compare them. You shall state he is to woo and marry the lovely creature, not this insignificant plebeian! He would not waist even a thought on me. _

"Yes, I shall do it." Jane said, lowering her hands and lifting her face in resolve. Jane nodded, getting up and hastily sketching, her own portrait took an hour or two. Blanche's took much longer, and Jane took great pains in perfecting it. When she was done, she held it up and nodded, "It is exactly as it should be." Putting the drawings down, she crawled into bed at last, falling asleep. Little did she know how much she would rely on those drawings to h=make is through the times ahead, so unprepared was she.

/

A week passed, no news. Ten days, no news. Mrs. Fairfax said it was not unexpected, he might be gone for a year or more. Jane felt her soul crumpling at the thought of it, a chill within her heart and a large sense of disappointment. Jane composed herself time and time again, restraining her senses. _I have no right to care where and when he stays. You have nothing to do with him, aside from being paid to teach Adele. You should be grateful, just do your job and be grateful for it. He is not of your order, he out classes you, be respectful of it. _

Each day passed with the same mediocre notions, the same routines. He had been gone nearly two weeks when a letter arrived. Mrs. Fairfax looked at it, opening it quickly. "It is from Mr. Rochester." She read the contents and smiled, widely and with great joy as Jane poured her morning coffee. Her hand was shaking as she drank, much coffee enjoying the saucer rather than Jane herself. She did not want to acknowledge what reason was behind her body betraying her. "Well. Sometimes I think we are too quiet, but this is extreme. We shall have a full house!" She held the note out, adjusting her glasses.

Jane concentrated on her drink, before Adele came running in, needing help with her dress. Jane gladly helped her, as Mrs. Fairfax kept on reading. "I don't suppose he shall return soon then?" Jane asked, saying it very non chalantly.

"Indeed he is – three days. And he won't be coming alone. I am to acquire more people to play servants for the time they stay, oh- I shall have to go into the village. All guest rooms must be turned inside out – aired and dusted, fresh linens. More kitchen hands." The woman swallowed and rushed away somewhere. Jane watched the hallway as the woman moved back and forth, Leah nodded and ran out the backdoor. Mrs. Fairfax gathered her car keys and grabbed her coat from the closet.

"Can I help with anything?" Jane asked, feeling idle.

"Oh no dear, you just take care of Adele." The woman said, patting her hand as she opened the door. The woman stopped, and turned her head back, "Well, you can come with me, you can go into the local shop and pick up some sheets and linens while I gather other things."

Jane nodded, putting her coat on and instructing Adele on how to behave with her nurse. Getting into the car, she heard nothing but he beat of her own heart all the way to the village, indeed, it was the only sound she heard for the next three days.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Disclaimer - All belongs to CB. I can only pay homage to the master. Please read, review and enjoy!_**

**"I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."  
>― Charlotte Brontë, <em>Jane Eyre<em>**

Her footsteps made soft noises on the grass, the slightly frost covered threads seems to crackle and crunch under her feet. Her lungs wanted to scream, the past three days had been hell. She had tried to block out her heart, yet a voice haunted her – dreaming provided no solace and consciousness made it worse. Her name, whispered over and over like a low murmur in the night, in the shadows, in each corner of that house. It was maddening, it was seductive – and in her heart she knew it was him. Maybe not as he was now, but it was him. A ghostly version of him, the past self he spoke of with such hated affection.

As she ran, the flat plain became forest, the branches hit her face and body – no pain or acknowledgement of the action. She pushed herself until she caught her foot on a tree root, hitting the ground and she didn't move. The tears she had been shedding lay on her face as she rolled over, looking up into the canopy. She heard her own breath – shuddering like a tiny bird as she tried to supress the tears. She had spent three days trying to ignore it, her feelings were unfounded and unwanted – and yet they persisted. Her soul fought against her mind and her heart strained against the bars of its cage.

She put her hands around her middle, curling up into a ball as she let the tears fall. How long would these infernal tears insist, plaguing her skin and eyes? As she lay on the ground, she became aware of the cold and knew she had lingered there too long. The throbbing in her knees and body had long gone. Standing, she walked back towards the house, feeling something warm on her face. She touched her cheek, and found a small amount of blood on her fingers. She sighed, she must look like a fright and they had company coming sometime today.

Jane was aware how busy the house was, many servants filled the rooms – happily playing the modern and past roles. She often wondered if Mr. Rochester had servants hiding within the house that she never saw, it was hard to believe that Leah and Mrs. Fairfax cleaned that whole place on their own most of the time. Reaching the back door, she opened it, the people around her seemed a blur as she walked up the stairs.

Jane sat in the library, reading after a day of teaching. Mrs. Fairfax sat by her, looking out the window every five minutes. Jane did not remember getting the water for the bath, or even having one. She also could not remember putting cover up on the scratch on her face, nor scrubbing her hands to free them from the dirt. "Oh here is John." Jane paused as she turned her page, not moving her eyes lest she spy him. "Any news?" Mrs. Fairfax called out the window, waving to John as she did so.

"Yes, they will be here in ten minutes – they are just coming up the drive."

Jane's heart seemed to beat in overtime, and ten minutes seemed like ten hours. Adele had suddenly appeared, flying to the window as Jane remained frozen. She started to move when prompted, being ushered to the kitchen, out of sight. Jane opened the kitchen door a crack, watching the hall way as people came in. People flooded the entrance way, and Jane was thankful for old housing designs- straight lines. "Miss Ingram!" Mrs. Fairfax called, rushing into Jane's view as she watched them, a grave look to her face. There were two very handsome men in the party, the first through the doors. Then a woman, she wore a purple hair piece that was exotic and elegant, with a short veil covering her face, tied into an elaborate hairstyle. The colour gleamed against the raven ringlets that were the lady's hair.

The party moved from the hall into a different room, and Jane shut the door as Adele fought against her. "Are you hungry Adele?" The child did not want to speak, but she did, admitting she was indeed hungry. Laughter and voices could be heard throughout the entire house, and Jane felt ill. She prepared a snack for Adele, and watched her eat it. Jane herself has no desire for food. The child ate tarts and chicken, sneaking glances at the door, as if a visitor was such to come in. After the food, Adele refused sleep, even though the hour grew late, and Jane agreed to tell her stories. Story after story, until Jane could no longer keep her own eyes focused on one point. Jane motioned her hand, helping the sleeping child towards the stair, where her nurse appeared and Jane was thankful. Staying behind to clean up the kitchen, she listened the joyous sounds in the next room. It was near one that the guests went to bed, Jane could hear from her room the sounds in the hall way. She slept then, her dreams fitful and unpleasant, dreams of ghosts and the red room mixed with that haunting laugh from so many days ago.

Awakening in the early morning, Jane ran down the stairs to the outside. She had studied her picture and the drawing of Miss Ingram, and she needed to get away. She pushed herself against the pain in her knee, no doubt bruised and maybe torn from the fall. Jane heard her own sounds; ragged breathing that hitched with supressed anger and sadness. As she turned a corner, she gasped and slipped, hitting the ground, a horse rearing as the man holding the reins swore. The servant apologized for startling her, and she shook her head. She saw more horses being moved from the stables, and she knew the party must be going riding – a thought which troubled her.

She brushed off the dirt and gravel, muttering about her own foolishness as she went back into the kitchen. She bathed and showered, a frown on her lips as she taught Adele that day. Jane's mind wandered, and it was noticeable to the child. But Adele said nothing, she was more preoccupied with watching the door of the school room, waiting for any news of her hero. Jane kept her as quiet as possible, until it was time for lessons to be over and Adele was allowed to go play outside.

Outside, she heard the sound of horses, and Jane made the mistake of looking out the library window. Mr. Rochester and his guest were riding past the house, and Jane sighed turning her head away. "Do you think he is really so fond of her? You said he would not marry soon, but it is clear he prefers her above all his guests."

"Yes, he admires her very much." Mrs. Fairfax responded.

"And she him." Jane replied, "Look how she leans her head towards him as if they were in silent conversation. I wish I could see her face, I have not had a glimpse of it yet."

"You will see her this evening." Mrs. Fairfax responded. "I happened to tell Mr. Rochester how much Adele wishes to be introduced to the ladies, and he said: "OH! Let her come into the drawing room after dinner; and let Miss Eyre accompany her."

"He was being polite, I am sure I need not go." Jane responded, her heart starting to pound in her ears; a wild sort of erratic beating.

"Well I did speak in your defense, you are so unused to company; I spoke to his better nature – they are all strangers and rich strangers. He replied – "Nonsense, if she objects, tell her it is my particular wish; and if she resists, say I shall come and fetch her in case of contumacy."

"I will not give him that trouble." Jane spoke softly, looking out the window once more. "I will go, if no better may be; but I don't like it. Shall you be there, Mrs. Fairfax?"

"No, I pleased to be away from it all. My plea was accepted, I am excused with making a formal entrance. Now. You must go into the drawing room while it is empty, before the ladies leave dinner. Choose your quiet seat in the nook, and you don't have to stay long after the men come in, unless you want to. Just let him see you there, and then slip away – no one will notice."

Jane sighed with mal-content, rising. "Will they stay long?"

"At least two or three weeks. Not more. After Easter Sir Lynn takes his seat and Mr. Rochester will go with him. I am surprised he would even stop off here. "

Jane nodded, excusing herself. She went to her room, making it there before the tears fell. She could have endured the entire visit without having to be in the same room with them all. What was she to wear, to say? No – she would follow Mrs. Fairfax's advice. She would stay not a moment longer than needed, but before then; she had three hours to kill until dinner was over. She had to get ready, but first she must still the flood of tears that now poured from her eyes, and she sat on the bed, her face in a pillow lest someone hear her.

The marks on her face where the tears had stained her cheeks remained, and nothing she could do seemed to lessen their presence. She wore a blue dress, it was demur enough for the evening. Jane dared not look at her reflection in the mirror as she went to fetch Adele. She blocked out the sound in her ears putting on a stoic face that would remain unchanged throughout the evening. She fetched Adele, whose energy was above and beyond her own, and walked with her to the drawing room. She sat in her small alcove, Adele suddenly somber. They remained in soft conversation, until the door slowly opened, and Jane sat straight up, sinking into the darkness as much as possible as she held her breath.

Eight people seemed to flock in, some were very tall – many dressed in white – some dressed in a variety of colours. They seemed to magnify- the way the mist magnifies the moon. Jane tried to recall all the names relayed to her by Mrs. Fairfax; Mrs. Eshton and two daughters, Lady Lynn, Mrs. Colonel Dent, the Dowager lady Ingram and her two daughters Blanche and Mary. Mrs. Eshton was still a very attractive woman, and in her youth must have been stunning. Her eldest, Amy, was little and naïve in her manner of speech, very childlike in looks – wearing a white dress and a blue sash did not help her case. Her second, Louisa, was taller and much more elegant with a very pretty face. No doubt could be cast as to how fair they were – like lilies. Lady Lynn was large and stout, about forty and very haughty looking. She wore a richly coloured satin robe, as if she had gone off to some far-away place and no was showing off her garment. She had lovely dark hair though, that Jane found shone even in the dim light. Mrs. Dent was far less showy, and more lady-like in Jane's eyes. She was slight of figure, pale but gentle faced with fair hair. She wore a lovely black dress and a scarf of foreign design with lace, and pearls around her neck that gave her the most elegant look.

The most distinguished by far were in the Ingram's. The Dowager Lady Ingram was maybe forty five to fifty, with black hair and pale skin – with a good figure and a smart suit of a business woman. Jane guessed most would describe her as a splendid woman of her age, and physically it was true, but her face held a very haughty expression. With Roman features and a double chin, which disappeared into her neck like a pillar, these features were not only dark but filled with pride. She also had a hard eye that Jane did not like, like Mrs. Reed, and Jane found her manner of speech the same.

Blanche and Mary were equal – straight and tall, elegant ladies. Mary was too slim, for her height, but Blanche was molded like a Dian. She held special interest in Blanche, how well did Mrs. Fairfax describe her. As far as personhood, she was exactly as described. A noble bust, the sloping shoulder, graceful neck, dark eyes and ringlet curls of ebony. Her face – like her mothers. Youthful unforrowed likeness, low brow and high features, but the pride remained. She laughed often, and it rang as satirical to Jane, as well as a habitual expression of her arched and haughty lip.

Jane could not decide if she was a genius, for many geniuses are said to be self-conscious. After all, Blanche was a business woman, she was very much into fashion and had a good knowledge of other things. She had entered into a conversation with Mrs. Dent on botany, which Mrs. Dent clearly did not know much about. As the conversation grew boring for Blanche, she headed to the piano to play and sing, and Jane wanted to roll her eyes at the women – yes her talents were great, but it was a show. Fakeness did not sit well with Jane.

Mary had milder features, and seemed better natured, but she lacked life within her person. Her eyes held no luster, her face lacked expression. She sat very still and said little, and Jane wonder3ed fi she had eaten anything at dinner, that she could have no energy for one as young as herself. Both sisters were dressed in fine white gowns, probably from some runway show they had attended.

At this point, Jane could not decide if Blanche was a good choice for Mr. Rochester, because she did not know his taste. Blanche was smart, attractive and talented without doubt, most men would admire her for all superficial reasons. And he did seem to admire her, from what Jane had seen during the day.

It was not that Adele stayed in the dark the whole time, when the ladies had entered Adele had risen to greet them, speaking in French to them with perfect politeness. "Oh my, what a little puppet." Blanche replied, smiling at the girl and Jane decided she did not like this woman at all.

"Oh that's Mr. Rochester's ward." Lady Lynn remarked, "The little French child he spoke of."

Mrs. Dent took Adele's hand and kissed it softly, smiling at her warmly. Jane smiled with appreciation – a true lady.

"What a love of a child." The Eshton girls cried simultaneously. They called Adele to the sofa, and that is where she now sat, while Jane studied each person. The ladies chatted with Adele, a mix of broken French and English, and Adele had captured the attention of Mrs. Dent and Lady Lynn as well. They spoiled her with attention and Jane watched with a relaxed smile on her face. Servants brought coffee into them, and the gentlemen entered. Jane fixed her gaze elsewhere, the smile leaving with the servants. Jane was glad it was dark, a shady alcove of protection.

All the men wore black, nice suits of good quality that appeared to be custom made. Henry and Frederick Lynn were both dashing, tall and elegant with handsome faces. However, Jane found her gut to say they were trouble and to avoid them at all costs. Colonel Dent was much like his wife, a fine soldierly man. Mr. Eshton was a magistrate, a gentleman with white hair, eyebrows and beard. He looked rather comical, but he seemed nice enough. Lord Ingram, like his sisters, was tall and handsome, but shared Mary's apathy and listlessness. He was more limb than life.

And Mr. Rochester? Where was he?

He came in last, and Jane made an effort not to watch for him. Yet she saw him still, even though she tried to focus on her book she had sequestered. She tried to focus on the pages, the words written on them, but she knew every movement he made, the shape of his figure in the doorway. It brought to her mind their last meeting, him holding her hand, asking her not to go. The way his eyes had looked at her, the passion and heartfelt gaze had lingered in her dreams. And now, how far away was that look from his person. How estranged now, Jane not expected him to come speak to her, yet felt disappointed he did not.

Waiting until his company distracted him, Jane looked up from her book, her eyes going to his face directly. She guessed she could observe him so readily now, without fear of interruption. No matter how hard she tried to avert her gaze, her eyes went back to him, and it was a pleasure like poison that drew her to him. His strong features, firm, grim mouth – full of energy and will – not stereotypically beautiful but gorgeous to her eyes. More than beauty was he to Jane, and it was this power and rendered all those feelings she had managed to master rise again. She was powerless to him, under him, around him. Jane had never meant to love him, fighting against those feelings with all her might but alas – there it was. He had made her fall in love with him without even looking at her.

Jane compared him to his guests, they laughed and smiled together. At first an observer may have said he was melancholy – overpowered by his guest in terms of power and handsome qualities. With the smiling and gaiety, his features softened and his manner grew brilliant and gentle, gentle and sweet. She watched him talk with the Eshton girls, their faces colouring under such a man's look in conversation and she felt something odd rising in her. _He is not to them what he is to me, he is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine, I am sure he is, I am akin to him, I understand the language of his countenance and movements, though rank and wealth separate us. Something in my blood, brain and heart naturally assimilates me mentally to him. I know I must conceal my sentiments, he is my employer. We are the same in thought and feeling, and though we are severed, forever sundered – yet while I breathe and think, I must love him._

The ladies were talking, the men arguing something political. Sir George – who had escaped her scrutiny- was a big, fresh looking country gentleman who said little, liking his coffee more than conversation. Everyone seemed engaged with each other until a voice spoke out –

"I thought you didn't like children Edward." Blanche said, her familiar tone irked Jane greatly.

"Nor do I."

"Then what made you take in a little doll like that?" Blanche asked, pointing to Adele. "What made you pick her up?"

"I did not, pick her up, she was left with me."

"You should have sent her to school." Blanche replied, a smile on her face that was fake as any Jane had ever seen.

"Schools are too expensive for what little they teach."

"Oh, then you must have a private tutor or governess." Blanche said thoughtfully. "I did see someone with her earlier, has so gone? No, there she is, behind window curtain. You pay her of course – that must be more expensive, keeping them both.

Jane wondered if then he would glance at her, but he did not take his eyes from Miss Ingram. "I have not considered the subject." He spoke with indifference.

"No, men never economize, nor do they have common sense. I had many private tutors, you should hear the stories Mama has. Mary and I must have had a dozen of them."

"Did you speak, dearest?" After being filled in on the conversation, the woman cried, "Don't talk to me of tutors, the very word makes me nervous. What an incompetent group of people. Thank Heaven I am done with them." The Dowager looked at Jane in such a way that made her lower her voice, but Jane still heard every word. "Just look at her, with all the faults of her class."

"And what are they madam?" Mr. Rochester inquired aloud.

"I shall tell you in private, later." The Dowager replied.

"My curiosity craves food now, madam, not later."

"As does mine Mama." Blanche said quickly.

"Ask Blanche then, she is nearer."

"Do not refer him to me mother, I have but on word on the subject – nuisance. The whole lot. I took great pleasure teasing and pranking the old biddies with Theo." Blanche said, and her brother replied while Jane tuned them out. She had no wish to hear the rambling of spoiled lords and ladies.

Somehow the conversation turned to music and Jane looked up from her book when Blanche and Mr. Rochester were now at the piano. Blanche seemed to be on her high horse, talking of something Jane did not care to hear. "Oh, how I am sick of young men today! Creatures so absorbed in the care of pretty faces, white hands and small feet. As if a man had anything to do with beauty. Woman can be lovely, but even an ugly woman can be lovely, gentlemen must have strength and valor. I know it is old fashioned, but there it is." She paused and looked up at the ceiling, and Jane had to focus on her book, careful not to roll her eyes lest she be seen. "Whenever I marry, I must not marry a rival, but a foil. I want to competition running a household, I want an undivided home. His devotions shall not be shared between me and the shape he sees in the mirror. Now, Edward, sing and I shall play for you. "

"I am all obedience." Was all the response.

_Now is the time to slip away,_ Jane thought as the others were engulfed in conversation. Then the tones of his voice hit the air and she froze in his risen state- his was fine indeed, Mrs. Fairfax had been spot-on. A mellow, powerful bass. It filled her soul, hitting her heart directly. Waiting till the last note, Jane then slipped away, out a side door nearby, trying not to run to her room and shut the door. Thank goodness for the side door, and the nearness of the hall. Jane looked down to see her shoe was coming loose, and she bent to tie it, rising as a figure came out a doorway, the dining room door. Mr. Rochester faced her as she turned around, the stair behind her like a safety net.

"How are you?" He asked.

"I am very well, sir."

"Why did you not come speak to me in the room?"

Jane thought of many ways to retort and bring the point back to him; but decided against using that freedom. "You seemed engaged sir, I did not wish to disturb you."

"What have you been doing in my absence?"

"Teaching, like always."

"And getting paler by the day – I noticed immediately. What is the matter?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Did you take cold the night you half drowned me?"

"No, sir."

"Return to the drawing room then; you are deserting too early."

"I am tired, sir."

He looked at her for a minute, carefully. "And depressed I think. What about Jane? Tell me."

"I am hardly depressed." Jane replied. "It is nothing."

He watched her again and seemed to shift in his facial expression. "I affirm you are – so much so that any more words would bring tears to your eyes. Indeed – there they are now, shining and swimming; a bead has slipped from the lash onto the flag. If I had time, and were not under the eye of the servants, I would know what this means." He touched her face, wiping away the tear from her cheek and Jane looked to the floor. "Very well – tonight I excuse you. But understand, I expect you to join every night my visitors are here. It is my wish, do not neglect it. No go – send Sophie for Adele. Goodnight my-" He stopped abruptly, bit his lip and abruptly left.


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning – this chapter is not from the book. At all. Not even close. Please enjoy and review!**

"Flirting is a woman's trade, one must keep in practice."  
>― Charlotte Brontë, <em>Jane Eyre<em>

Saturday, Jane decided, was a gloomy depressing day; an awful reminder that there were two days yet that Mr. Rochester would be entertained solely by Blanche. Sitting by the window in the library, Jane sat sketching. Somehow the image was always the same, either of him or of his lady; sometimes they were disguised as angels descending from heaven, or demons rising from the depths of hell. He was the sun, drawing her close enough to burn yet seemingly so far way. Jane found herself feeling restless, like a bird. She focused more on Adele, using any and all excuses to stay away from the group.

Today her pencil drew a scene, of rolling hills with trees cascading along the horizon. It was difficult to emerge herself in such a task, her hands shook as voices reached her ears, the familiar tones of a deep rolling voice made her shiver. The door opened, and Jane forced her hand to move long the page adding details to a tree. She knew she was not hidden, and how she so wanted to be. "Ah, Jane. There you are." He spoke so eagerly, happily. "Is this where you have been hiding all day? I didn't see you at breakfast or lunch."

"I ate with Adele." Jane replied, her hand flipping the page over with a sigh; unsatisfying was the picture.

"You are melancholy Jane." He remarked, pulling up a chair next to her.

"Since when is melancholy defined through the segregation of employee and employer." Jane replied, an edge to her force. "I do not wish to be subjected to such a delineation." Her companion let out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. She stopped and looked at his, his eyes seem to sparkle with amusement. "You mock me."

"No, Jane." Mr. Rochester spoke, amusement in his voice. "Quite the opposite, I find a startling truth in your bluntness that surprised me. I forget, you see, about the 'delineation'." He watched her, and she returned the gaze with a hardness neither of them liked. "I have neglected you."

Jane set her teeth and turned her head back to her page, her hand not being able to find the inspiration. Attempting to hide her shaking hands, Jane clutched her fingers on her lap, her sketchbook resting on her knees. Looking out the window, her eyes searched his reflection in the glass. He studied her, his eyes not confined to her face.

"Come run with me." She turned her head back to him, her eyes questioning his reasons. "What look is this? You do not trust me?"

"I did not you run, that's all." She spoke, and a smile crept onto his face.

"Ah, well." He leaned in, "I do profess that I do very little, but that does not take away from my muscular form, does it not Jane?"

Jane shrugged, a small smile forming on her lips as she lowered her head. "I was not completely sure it was muscle sir, if so that is very impressive for a man of your age." Hearing a snort as a sort of indignant reply, she chuckled softly. "Running just might do you a great deal of good."

/

The run seemed to go by much faster than those did previous; he kept up easily despite his claim not to engage in rigorous activity. The property seemed to shrink, the distance was not nearly so long or hard, the trees welcomed them and said farewell multiple times. The spoke of many things, and it pleased Jane to no end to feel like they were on equal ground.

"What do you think of London, Jane?" He asked as they started their third lap, a glimmer of sweat starting to appear on his brow.

"It is nice enough, but I never spent much time out and about."

"Ah, the singular creature."

"Do not laugh." She panted, her body slowly running out of steam. "Many people do not like the crowded streets or loud noises a big city has to offer."

He laughed, a smile forming on hips lips briefly as they went along. "You would prefer to spend your whole life locked away like a bird, Jane?"

"Being a bird - implies a - cage in this - context." She replied, "I am not - and shall - never be - caged."

"So you would go and explore the world Jane?" He asked, "You would leave me Jane."

"Adele will - outgrow my - skill - as a teacher." Jane replied, her voice shaky as she breathed between word sets. "You shall have no need of you."

"Nonsense." He replied, his voice low.

"I don't talk nonsense." Jane replied, slowing to a walk as they made it into the treeline. Putting a hand on her neck, she raised her other hand and then frowned. "I forgot a watch, may I use yours?"

He stepped closer to her, removing her hand from her neck only to replace it with his own; his touch burned, her heart seemed to flood in her ears more than the running could inspire. His eyes did not linger on his wrist, but locked on her own. She could not speak, she felt weak and dizzy as he stepped closer. Suddenly their faces were very close, and she felt unsteady, unsettled and yet…

Finding the words to speak, she finally asked. "What is it?"

"Oh.' He said, breaking out of the trance they were in. "I have no idea, I forgot mine as well." He grinned, standing straight now, squeezing her slightly before removing his hand. "Shall we race back to the house?"

Jane was thankful for the opportunity, bolting for the door. He barked something and followed suit, reaching her as she made it to the door way. She felt his hands go round her waist as he pulled her backwards, a sound escaped her lips in frustration and surprise as he slipped in front of her. She followed running to the stairs, reaching him and trying to get past, unaware of the ruckus they were causing, or the grins on their faces.

He succeeded to block the way up, until Jane resorted to kicking the back of his knee. As his lurched forward, she sprang over him. It did not take long to reach the hallway, she reached the top of the stair to grin at her accomplishment as a hand grasped her ankle; pitching her forward. She squirmed as she was held fast, a weight on her as she turned on her back. His elbow rested by her ear, her thoughts were no longer on running, or water. She had teased him before, but she could feel his body now – his face lingered over her own. His eyes were dark, something lingered there she did not fully understand, but she felt it, knew it – and longed for it.

No sound startled them, no movement to disturb them. His lips seemed to hover over her own, his eyes searching; almost for permission or forgiveness. "You transfix me Jane." He whispered, "What spell have you bewitched me with?"

"No spell, sir." She replied, her voice as soft as his own.

"No." He breathed, moving back, standing and offering her a hand. She took it, and he pulled her up and into his arm easily. His arms went around her softly, like he was afraid Jane would break, his head buried in her neck. She felt her knees go weak as his lips brushed a spot she had not known existed, a small sound escaping her lips. Her hands pressed against his chest for support, and she felt his muscle contract to balance her.

The air was suddenly cold; he was not beside her. Jane blinked, rubbing her arms as she turned her head to watch his figure walk away. His gate was brisk and determined, yet his shoulders seemed hunched and heavy. He ran a hand through his hair as he disappeared into his room, leaving Jane in a state of utter wonderment.

/

That night, like clockwork, she sat her little hiding spot as the rest of the group sat chatting. She tuned them out easily tonight, her mind preoccupied with the events of earlier. She was trying to sketch, the images, however, were clearing restricted to the human body, the muscular form. She decided it was Hercules, and not some mortal man she pictures as she drew. The thought, however fictional, was easier than the truth and far less distracting.

"What a wonderful idea!" Blanche exclaimed, "How wonderful of you, Edward."

"What is it Blanche, and is it worth all this noise?" Her mother asked in an unpleasant tone.

"Edward has gotten us tickets to see Phantom of the Opera, Mama."

"How droll. Mr. Rochester I did not know you were an art's enthusiast."

"Normally I am not, but since we rarely have a moment to enjoy these things as a group, I saw it as a privilege."

"How kind you are Edward, all because you heard me say I liked musicals." Blanche crooned, and Jane rolled her eyes in silence. "You did buy more than enough tickets, actually you bought too many; there seem to be two extra."

"Not at all, Miss Eyre and Mrs. Fairfax shall be joining us."

"Really Edward." Blanche said sharply, "Do you always invite the servants?"

"If you dislike the decision, you are free to stay behind." He replied, his tone warm. "I have booked us all rooms at a hotel, and I made dinner reservations."

Jane had been watching him ever since it had been publically announced she was to join them. _To what end?_ Her heart fluttered in panic and dread, her eyes watching his face. His eyes returned the look, locking with hers briefly before turning his back to her. _I do not understand, what am I to do?_ She called out, her soul aching for an answer.

_Jane._ The place seemed to creak, a whisper reaching her ear. She watched as Blanche touched his back, her hand sliding down his spine in an intimate gesture. She clenched her teeth, rising from her spot as the pain in her heart welled up higher than she could control. Slipping out of the room, she shut the door softly, removing her heels and running to safety.


End file.
